Jan

American Cultural Heritage: Public Libraries

by Meredith Mullins on January 25, 2016

One-room green library in Allensworth, CA, one of the public libraries showing America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

Library built by ex-slaves, Allensworth, California
© Robert Dawson

The Art of Getting on the Same Page

Shhh. No talking. Let the books and walls and shelves speak for themselves. If you’re quiet, you can hear the sound of knowledge. The call to adventure. The whisper of imagination.

It all happens at public libraries—a part of American cultural heritage that has opened so many doors, providing free access to information and the freedom to learn.

“It is a space ship that will take you to the farthest reaches of the universe, a time machine that will take you to the far past and the far future, a teacher that knows more than any human being, a friend that will amuse you and console you … and most of all, a gateway to a better and happier and more useful life.” —Isaac Asimov

An intergalactic tribute to books; The Main Library, Duluth, Minnesota. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

An intergalactic tribute to books at The Main Library, Duluth, Minnesota
© Robert Dawson

Open Doors

We all have memories of public libraries. Being read to during story hour as our littlest self. Checking out our first book as a child, proudly using our official library card, which seemed to give us instant status and new swagger to our step.

Seeking a cool spot on a hot summer afternoon or warmth during a winter snowstorm. Listening for the seductive sound of the approaching bookmobile. Wondering if we could ever, in our life, read all that the library had to offer.

A trailer library in Death Valley National Park, California, one of the public libraries of America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

A remote, shaded library in Death Valley National Park, California—the hottest place on earth
© Robert Dawson

Boundless Opportunity

Libraries are not just a democratic haven for reading. They are also community centers, temporary shelter for the homeless, cathedral-ceiling reading rooms and research hubs, tables full of accessible computers, literacy centers, and a place for people to learn and neighbors to meet.

Reading Room at the Main Library, Philadelphia, PA, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The Reading Room at the Main Library in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
© Robert Dawson

They exist in cities of millions and in a town of one person (Rudy’s library in Monowi, Nebraska.). They are one-room shacks in the middle of nowhere, brightly colored storefronts in shopping malls, and multiple layers of steel and glass in modern urban centers.

They are transformed from banks, hospitals, jails, churches, railroad stations, fish markets, gas stations, and nightclubs

The Ralph W. Yarborough branch library, Austin, TX, in an old theater, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

Yarborough Branch Library in Austin, Texas is housed in an old theater.
© Robert Dawson

Inspiration for Imagination

They tell stories—from a history of George Washington’s overdue books checked out from The New York Society Library (returned 221 years later . . . not by George) to the vision of Kentucky librarians on horseback carrying books in saddlebags to rural areas.

They provide fuel for imagination and innovation, as a cast of dedicated founders, patrons, and librarians parade through history and as the libraries of today expand their collections to music, films, seeds, and tools.

First Carnegie Library, Braddock, PA, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The first Carnegie Library in Braddock, Pennsylvania
© Robert Dawson

A Creative Vision of Our Heritage

Where did I learn so much about America’s public libraries?

From photographer Robert Dawson, who brings public libraries to life in his book The Public Library: A Photographic Essay. He found their past and their present in his 18-year journey across America, learning their secrets and capturing their essence.

Interior, Evansville, IN, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The interior of the library in Evansville, Indiana
© Robert Dawson

He photographed hundreds of the 17,000 libraries in the U.S., traveling to 48 states. His odyssey confirmed his belief that libraries were symbols of democracy, and also were “great equalizers, tools of social justice to lift the poor and to provide equal opportunity.”

He clarifies his focus as “not just a study of architecture. It’s a look at the uses of libraries and their places in society—portraits of communities through the lens of the library. The public library in each of the places we visited spoke volumes about who we are as a people.”

Small library in Roscoe, SD, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The library in Roscoe, South Dakota, was built in 1932 by a group of civic-minded women.
It was one of the smallest public libraries in the nation.
© Robert Dawson

Through Robert’s photographs and thoughtful text, as well as the essays that are included in the book (including words from Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Lamott, Isaac Asimov, Amy Tan, Ann Patchett, and Bill Moyers), I came away with a renewed appreciation for this enriching part of our cultural heritage.

Yellow Queens Library Bookmobile, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

After Hurricane Sandy, the Queens Library Bookmobile was on the move (Rockaway, New York).
© Robert Dawson

I would especially like to see a sequel featuring the dedicated librarians. Anne Lamott describes these central characters as trail guides, capable of teasing out enough information about what someone is after to lead him or her on the path of connections.

Looking to the Future

I also came away with a commitment to making sure libraries don’t disappear. Robert saw much of this danger in his travels.

“I have always thought of public libraries as beacons of hope, and it saddened me each time I came upon a library that had been destroyed, either through natural disaster, neglect, or local economic collapse.”

Smallest library, now closed, Hartland Four Corners, VT, one of the public libraries that shows America's cultural heritage. (Image © Robert Dawson.)

The smallest library in the U.S. (in Hartland Four Corners, Vermont) is now closed.
© Robert Dawson

The reality is sad. Libraries are suffering from budget cuts every day, and many are closing. As librarian Dorothy Lazard says in her essay in the book, “libraries are the last outpost of community space.”

Although the lessons (and memories) were many for me in exploring the vastness of the public library system, the importance of public libraries in today’s society remains clear. My true Oh, I see moment was best summarized by T.S Eliot.

“The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man.”

We should not let this valuable part of our cultural heritage die.

Here is more information about The Public Library: A Photographic Essay and Robert Dawson’s other photographic projects. To learn more about the authors who contributed to this book, see websites for Isaac Asimov, Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Lamotte, Bill Moyers, and Amy Tan

The Library of Congress has acquired all of Dawson’s public library photographs as a historic record.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Meredith Mullins 4 Comments

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/The World's Photography/USA

Jan

Coffee Culture: Slow Down and Focus

by Joyce McGreevy on January 18, 2016

Cameras on display at the Camera Museum, part of London's coffee culture and a place to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Camera Museum)

Café, what café? Let’s see what develops.
© Camera Museum

To See the World, See Things Differently

There was only one logical conclusion: the café had been stolen by elves.

Sightseeing can mean seeing things differently–only now I couldn’t see the site at all. In search of a rumored gem of café culture, I paced the short stretch of London footpath. On that bitter cold morning in Bloomsbury, outdoor tables and chairs were sensibly tucked away. So I checked the street address again and again. But where the café was supposed to be, I saw only a shop front, its window chockablock with camera gear.

Then again, the café’s name had a photography reference, so it had to be right there. Yet when I glanced inside, there was only a small, softly lit shop. It barely looked big enough to contain its glass counter, across which two elderly men affably debated the merits of tripods.

Obviously, there was no room for a café.

Obviously.

Customers checking out photography gear at the Camera Museum, part of London’s coffee culture and a place to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Camera Museum)

There’s more brewing here than first meets the eye.
© Camera Museum

The Case of the Vanishing Café

Perhaps the café was like Brigadoon, the fictional Scottish village fated to reappear only one day every 100 years. Perhaps it was cousin to the London pub that mysteriously disappears in the madcap detective novel The Victoria Vanishes: A Peculiar Crimes Unit Mystery, by Christopher Fowler.

Or perhaps I just needed to slow down and focus.

Back I went to the camera shop. This time, instead of tentatively glancing through the door, I walked right in. There were new and vintage cameras, elephantine lenses, flashes, and battery grips arrayed in display cases everywhere. Stacked boxes filled the gaps between shelves and ceiling.

No coffee culture here.

From Scattered Photons to Single Focus

Just as I was about to leave, I looked up and saw a sign that said “Dessert.” (Some details naturally rivet my attention.) As a customer stepped away from the counter, another sign, “Coffee Shop,” was revealed.

Then I looked to the left, around a display case, and down a short hallway half in shadow. There it was, aptly underexposed—the Camera Café. To find it, you had to be fully inside the building. You had to observe your surroundings.

Oh, I see: As a photographer might say, I needed to adjust my focus. First, slow down that snap-happy shutter speed. Then, expand the depth of field and explore the entire scene.

A vintage camera, water glass, and coffee cup, illustrating how savoring the moment can help people see things differently. (Image © pia–ch/iStock)

Take time to focus, and savor a sense of place.
© pia–ch/iStock

That was years ago. Today the café, renamed the Camera Museum, is so heavily signposted that no passerby could miss it. But at the time, as befuddlement turned to “Eureka!” it held a mythic quality.

Call it a Narnia moment, because it felt like finding a world behind the wardrobe.

Ever since, I’ve reveled in witnessing the hidden, which, admittedly, often includes delayed discoveries of the obvious.

The street view of the Camera Museum, a place that invites passersby to slow down, see things differently, and enjoy London’s coffee culture. (Image © Camera Museum)

Once easily missed, this London café draws full focus today.
© Camera Museum

To Look or to See?

Sometimes the most delightful details are hidden in plain sight.

Recently, while waiting my turn in a coffee house in Ann Arbor, Michigan, I decided to take in the details of the setting rather than reflexively stare at my cell phone. That’s when I saw it—the fairy door in the baseboard. It stood just a few inches high, but it had a big place at Sweetwaters Coffee & Tea.

A miniature fairy door set into the baseboard of the Sweetwater Café in Ann Arbor, Michigan, illustrating a beloved element of the coffee culture that invites people to slow down and see things differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Who lives here? Someone tiny and shy!
© Joyce McGreevy

Children’s book author Jonathan B. Wright (who also happens to teach design) created the fairy door, now a beloved element of local coffee culture. The one I spied is just the second of several such doors that mysteriously appeared in Ann Arbor, beginning in 1993.

What about the first fairy door? As coincidence would have it, that one appeared in the Wrights’ own home.

Soon, fairy doors and windows turned up all around town. Locals and visitors began to see the world differently.

Inspired by this stumbled-upon whimsy, I decided to track down other fairy dwellings. My favorite was the fairy house at the Ann Arbor public library.

Fairy houses hidden within books at the public library in Ann Arbor, Michigan, inviting people to see things differently in miniature. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

These books give new meaning to the phrase “multi-story housing.”
© Joyce McGreevy

When Details Become Doorways

So you might say it was the fairies who led me to yet another serendipity.

The library happened to be hosting a sale of vintage children’s books. There, for the grand sum of two dollars, I discovered a pristine copy of a book I had cherished as a child, The Grandma Moses Storybook for Boys and Girls, published in 1961.

1969 U.S. postage stamp (6 cents) honoring the art of Grandma Moses, illustrating how looking carefully into something as tiny as a stamp can help people see things differently. (Image by Bureau of Engraving and Printing [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons)

You can even see the world in a postage stamp!

Like many another sentimental object, it had fallen down time’s rabbit hole.

Now here it was. With the slight vanilla scent of each familiar page, a world of memories opened up and invited me back in.

See what happens when you slow down and focus?

Savoring the local coffee culture or simply pausing to see things differently can give you a deeper sense of place. It might take you to a half-hidden café in London or a fairy house in the Midwest. It might even take you all the way back to your happy childhood.

To stay up on what’s new with the fairies of Ann Arbor, visit the Urban Fairies Operations (UFO), a site maintained by Jonathan B. Wright. Find his books and a tour map to the fairy doors here.

Grandma Moses stamp credit: by Bureau of Engraving and Printing [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 24 Comments

Art of Travel/England/USA

Jan

The Corn Tortilla: A Mexican Superhero

by Eva Boynton on January 11, 2016

A mural of a maize plant used to make corn tortillas illustrates the connection of corn to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

A kernel of corn at the heart of a Mexican corn plant; the corn plant at the heart
of the corn tortilla; the corn tortilla at the heart of Mexican culture
photo © Eva Boynton

The Delicious Taste of Cultural Heritage

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a corn tortilla addict. At first I was skeptical.

My travel companions from Mexico would let loose disappointed sighs when a beautiful meal lacked their favorite flying saucers made of corn. I would think to myself, “What’s the hubbub over tortillas?” After my first weeks in Mexico, though, I was hooked.

Corn tortillas are the superheroes of a Mexican meal. They can magically expand a few morsels of food into a full meal. They add flavor and richness to daily life. And the process of making delicious tortillas connects people to Mexico’s cultural heritage and traditions as well as to each other.

Born in a Tortillería

The life of this Mexican superhero begins in the tortillería (tortilla shop). Found in every neighborhood, the bustling shops spice up the streets with sound, smell, and flavor. They are a place of congregation, a daily interaction between neighbors.

Tortilla shop in a small Mexican town, showing how the daily practice of making corn tortillas connects to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

If the tortillas are made by machine, the crunch and whine of turning gears can be heard from several blocks away. If they are made by hand, the rhythmic pat-patting of hands flattening the dough fills the street. Each method douses the air with a corn perfume.

City or small town, life in Mexico is life with tortillas.

A Family Affair

One such tortillería is Tortijocha in Huatulco, a city in the Mexican state of Oaxaca. José Alfredo Lavariega Canseco (or Jocha, for short) began the business in his home, selling tortillas handmade by his wife.

Jocha and his family standing in front of their tortilla shop, illustrating the connection between corn tortillas and Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton).

The more they sold, the more Jocha recognized the possibility of a larger enterprise. The front of his house transformed into Tortijocha.

Jocha’s tortilla machine carries the name of
Fausto Celorio, who mechanized the
tortilla-making process in the late 1940’s.
© Eva Boynton

But selling handmade tortillas is not always profitable since they cannot be mass produced.

Jocha explains, “They are very tasty, handmade tortillas, but I was interested in doing business.”

Consequently, someone else was introduced into the family business. Her name—Máquina Celorio.

The early days of using the machine were pure experimentation. Jocha’s first tortillas were a tad crispy, but that did not spoil the family’s excitement. They celebrated around the dinner table with a stack of charred, machine-made tortillas and a home-cooked meal.

A man working the tortilla machine, showing the daily practice of making corn tortillas that connects to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

Man and machine at work.
The dough—a mixture of ground-up corn kernels soaked in limewater—is pushed
through a funnel, sliced into tortillas, and moved along three griddles to cook.
© Eva Boynton

Once again, the tortilla showed its superpowers, bringing a family together in a common enterprise. Tortijocha quickly began producing and selling stacks of identically cut and cooked tortillas that brought other families together in communal feasts.

The Cultural Connection

“Is there a difference between your tortillas and those from other tortilla shops?” I asked.

Jocha replied, “Our tortillas are the best because we make tortillas with real corn. . . .We try to have flavor and texture in the tortillas. We want to have quality.”

The real corn Jocha is talking about comes from using maíz (corn) purchased from local farmers in Huatulco. Tortijocha soaks and grinds the corn instead of buying a pre-made mixture from a store.

Spread out on the floor, a pile of corn is ready for use in making corn tortillas, a food connected to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez)

Jocha claims that the taste of “100% pure maíz” (found on their store sign) creates stronger connections among land, plant, farmer, and city customer. The connections date back to the ancestors of Mexico’s modern culture who grew some 59 types of indigenous corn.

Mountains with corn plant growing in the foreground, showing an ingredient for making corn tortillas, a food still connected today to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Gabriela Díaz Cortez)

Corn tortillas are ingrained in Mexico’s identity for reasons beyond the ingredients—the patting together of dough is part of Mexico’s cultural heritage that has been passed down across centuries.

A Mexican woman making corn tortillas by hand, showing an ongoing connection to Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions (Image © Frank Kolvachek)

Why does this traditional way of making tortillas continue? Perhaps because it is tradition, or perhaps it is because handmade tortillas are more delicious, crafted and cooked on a different kind of grill—crafted by a person rather than sliced and delivered by a machine.

Whether made by machine or by hand, however, the corn tortilla maintains its superhero status, connecting a modern-day culture to its roots.

Oh, I See the Superpowers of the Corn Tortilla

Maintaining traditions across centuries. Bringing people together. As if these superpowers weren’t sufficient, I discover the daily power of tortillas. They go with almost every meal in Mexico, serving as the main ingredient, utensil, or sponge to soak up the rich flavors of a dish.

Dinner plate filled with tasty tortillas topped with queso fresco and avocado, illustrating the ongoing connection between tortillas eaten today and Mexico's cultural heritage and traditions. (Image © Eva Boynton)

I imagine myself traveling with a utility belt full of tortillas for every occasion. Need silverware? Pull out a tortilla. Missing a napkin, tablecloth, meal extender, flavor enhancer, or community builder? Look to the little tortilla.

As Jocha told me, “The corn tortilla is the most important thing on the table.” That’s because it’s a Mexican superhero, full of good taste and cultural heritage, connected to Mexico’s rich history and ancestral cuisine.

Thank you, Jocha, for the interview and the delicious tortillas.

Comment on this post below.

Eva Boynton 1 Comment

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/Mexico

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