Zen and the Art of Beach-Creature Construction.

Posted on December 29, 2011 by Amber

‘Strandbeesten’ – The Beach Creatures of Holland

Somewhere in Holland stands a brand new residential area, where bright red bricks tower above stick-like trees shivering in the cold December wind. Next to it is an elongated hill – called a dike –, and beyond that a teeming 6-lane highway. Up on the dike, in the rushing wind and all by itself, is a little makeshift housey, flanked by some brave trees. In and around the house are lots of yellow plastic tubes in varying combinations, connected by yellow plastic hinges, also made out of plastic yellow tubes. It is a unique place with all this tubing going on, and stands fairly unnoticed up there on the barren dike in the wind like that. This is the workshop of an artist whose medium is – you’ve guessed it – yellow pvc tubing.
This artist, Theo Jansen by name, – and his crew Loek van der Klis -, makes ‘Strandbeesten’ – “Beach Creatures”. His creatures are awesome in appearance. They shuffle in energetic steps up and down the beach, propelled by the wind. Theo has been devoted to the creation and development of these mechanical mobile sculptures for the past thirty-odd years. Loek is a photographer by trade and construction scientist and handy-man to the tubes-outfit. Sitting in their workshop on the hill, Loek has the enthusiasm for the trade gently bubbling on his pot of life, and it is a joy to stand in his ‘kitchen.’ (Photo below by Loek).

Large and intricate they are, something like gargantuan scurrying yellow beetles, on board of which there is much busy-ness and whistling wind indeed, while down below its numerous rounded feet plod along energetically and rhythmically in turns.
I met such a creature, and its entourage of people with tools, on the beach one day last summer. The sky was blue and the wind just right. The kindly crew was in the belly of the beast (with tools), and the artist – Mr Jansen – stood by, viewing the proceedings carefully. There was a certain air of calm and industry at the place. The legs, assembled with hinges and rounded feet all made out of pvc, are designed to have long moments of contact with the ground and short moments of transition in the air, for maximum propulsion per step with the least possible energy spent. They move up and down the beach ‘by themselves’, propelled by wind that is pumped into bottles on board and is then released into its ‘wings’, which stand like fins tall on its shoulders, and rustle like space blankets.
Apparently half of south-east Asia has been seized by utter fascination of Theo’s beach creatures, and are currently keeping him busy proving evidence of higher inspiration, which translates into their culture in ways that I never will understand. On that day, some American and Japanese photographers were waiting patiently nearby, smoothing down their hair and hoping they wouldn’t lose the light. And they didn’t. A glorious day it was, and like many journalists that had gone before, these too would be taking home photos of this bizarre phenomenon to share with their local readers, so they may all be in awe of what is being made here, in the land below sea level, by level-headed free-thinkers on the beach.
But up here on the dike, 20 kilometres from the sea, on this cold day in December, a creative man is heating, cutting and rounding body-parts for future beasts. The construction, assembly and maintenance of the beach creatures is done with loving care and ever greater precision. Zen and the art of Beach-Creature Construction. It is a peaceful place, up on the dike in the wind. We pull a small beast – as big as a car – up and down the yard. It’s a bizarre thing to do, and tweaks the brain. On a wooden partition outside is a display of pictures of other elephant-like sculptures on other beaches. Some of these were even made out of heavy wooden fork-lift pallets. Amazingly, they too enjoyed self-propulsion once, in earlier experimental phases. They look like they come from the set of some weird futuristic desert film.
It seems that Theo Jansen has the vision of putting a completely other type of mobile, semi-independent being into circulation amongst humans. The pvc species may walk freely on the beaches. The pallet version, with an on-board shower cubicle and windows, may possibly be designed to serve as a desert ship to those who are tired of permanent residency on an over-filled continent. I think it is a really great idea, one of the best yet, and if he needs anybody to test this stuff out, like in the steppes of Mongolia, then I am his girl.

Photo: Loek van der Klis www.loekvanderklis.nl

Thank you, Loek, for a fabulous afternoon on the dike, by the teeming highway.
And a Happy New Year to All.

www.strandbeesten.com

www.loekvanderklis.nl

“Is it something useful, Mom?”

Posted on December 20, 2011 by Amber

When I am not busy chasing adverbials followed by ‘noun phrase + to-infinitive clauses’ I occasionally throw the odd glance at my children, and ask myself how they’ve been in the past months. Right now, I confess, they are a couple of short people living in the house. Their rooms resemble the junk yard of someone’s uncle; their shifting glances suggest they’re not so sure about who I am or what this lady represents any more (other than screeching on about having to absorb cultural obligations like reading A Christmas Carol, because it’s appropriate this time of year).

Speaking of motherly love, I pulled a mean trick on my youngest son today. It was late afternoon and he was having an early supper of macaroni with a tomato sauce I made this morning in between wrestling with assignments. It was nice, but he didn’t want it because of all the grapes he’d eaten already. I said: “if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it” and so, good son that he is, he brought the half-eaten plate to my desk, where I was working.

The moment I received it, I knew I wanted him to stay long enough to also take the plate away again, so I grabbed it and at the same time said, “I have something for you, don’t go away.”

Children are wonderful creatures. Shall I take a moment to digress, and tell you that their simplicity and spontaneity is what turns our world, makes the bitterest histories sweet, reminds us of our mortality. As I sat there, eyes bulging and scoffing like a baby elephant, my son thought he was going to get a present. He lingered, thought about it for a moment, and then asked:

“Is it something useful?”

Oh dear, sweet deception. I knew I was mean. A trickster, a conniving, mischievous mother with hidden agendas. He waited while I ate, trying to swallow my insidious laughter all the while. When I was done, I triumphantly passed him the empty plate, and he knew he’d been had.

Well, it’s almost Christmas anyway.

Assessment of the Delft Method of Second Language Teaching

Posted on December 19, 2011 by Amber

The following essay is a school assignment for a course called ‘History of English Language Teaching‘ which is given by one of my favourite teachers. Indeed, I count myself amongst the very lucky to have a teacher of this quality. (I am not saying who, or else you will all be over here and I’d have to share his time with even more people…!)

Purpose of the essay is to investigate the underlying purpose and validation of a particular style of teaching, and establish if it is a method or merely an approach. Furthermore, I honed down the central issue of my investigation to include a notion of whether this method was appropriate in its specific context and with regard to the target group it aims at.

‘Assessing the DELFT METHOD of Language Learning in its appropriate and specific context’ by Amber Nowak

What is the Delft Method’?

The Delft Method was initially developed by lecturers at the Technical University in Delft, the Netherlands, in the early 1980s as a method by which foreign students could quickly learn Dutch as a foreign language in order to study and survive in Holland. The motivation for this was that it would thus allow foreign students to study effectively and participate in the country’s culture, rather than be isolated in smaller cultural groups all of the same origins. A new method – the Delft Method – was designed especially to meet these requirements. The method itself focusses mainly on productive language skills (speaking and writing), which are learned through use of the target language only. It soon became popular because it proved to be effective and because its content was known for its simplicity and clarity. (Makkink 2007)

The method focuses on acquiring grammar and language structure through texts chosen for their strong cultural focus in a Dutch cultural environment. The lessons emphasise listening and speaking skills, and the texts are designed to improve knowledge about the Netherlands at the same time. The emphasis lies in speaking, in transferring meaning, paraphrasing and using discourse to arrive at an agreement in meaning, in other words, the emphasis lies in language performance, in oppose to language competence in the given target language (English) (Canale&Swaine1980)

The Delft Method is typically one of high work load. The student is expected to be able to focus on a full-day course for a period of six months. It could be compared to the sheltered model used in America to prepare foreign students for studying in English in the United States [Holly Hansen-Thomas 2008].

Using the Delft Method for teaching English Continue reading →

Overall Emotional Experience while eating Pannetone

Posted on December 18, 2011 by Amber

It is almost Christmas. The tree is up and colourful and I play ridiculous generic Christmas music of the type you are likely to hear on the escalator in department stores. The up-side of living in Europe around Christmas is being able to buy pannetone everywhere, and we do. I started a stock of beautiful boxes of this divine Italian cake in our office: Some are 500g per piece, others range from 950g to a kilo: they are for friends and relatives, and for work and/or project groups we have been forced to participate in in the last year. Most are elegantly wrapped in hand-made pastoral paper, sealed with a large bow; the label of some Italian family, living in a remote village and advertising that the 110-year-old grandmother is still involved in the leavening stages of their pannetone, is affixed. My husband and I love the stuff. We have gotten through half of the stocks already, and the piece-de-resistance was opened this morning, Sunday the 18^th of December, 2011.

We were still in bed when, like expectant children, we unwrapped our delectable morsel (happy that it was only 500 grams, which meant we could eat it all in one go without feeling too guilty). It was my husband’s favourite kind: con uvette e frutti secchi – raisins and dried, candied fruit. Our children were invited to join in, but the fools do not eat raisins, so I made coffee, and there we sat in bed, like two little children absolutely transfixed with the imminent prospect of this delectable pre-Christmas treat.

After the coffee and most of the gorgeously soft pannetone (we wisely left a slither for later) there was time to inspect the little pastoral label, with all the family members in a sepia photograph. Text in Italian and English, all about ‘il corte di Ludovico il Moro’ and the Milanese tradition of ‘pandolce’ (sweet bread) and the tale of honey, natural leaven and the candied fruits, we then stumbled upon a questionnaire at the end: a full 4 pages are dedicated to the degree of enjoyment of the consumer. Did we have a satisfactory visual, taste, tactile and olfactory sensation while eating this pannetone? Were the colour and the structure excellent, or not? Was the taste intense and complex, was the aroma persistent? To add to our relish, each set of questions was accompanied by a rather old-fashioned and unquestionably elegant etching, picturing nose, eye, mouth and hand. And, if you thought that it would all not lead to anything, the ultimate set of questions, of course, regarded one’s “overall emotional experience” and made an inquiry as to factors of ‘pleasantness’, ‘satisfaction’, ‘temptation’ and ‘elegance’.

We were overjoyed with the little questionnaire. Finally there was confirmation as to what we were expected to experience while sitting in bed, eating pannetone. Finally there was a realistic anticipation as to the highest sensational ideals whilst consuming this godly food. Finally, we had met, face to sepia face, the makers, who had the same objective in mind as did we, when eating pannetone. With their little questionnaire, they were looking straight into our souls. Yes, we are fairly uncomplicated people when it comes to Pannetone, a good Italian bean, and a spot of prosecco on a random Sunday, somewhere near Christmas, with or without pyjamas. May life forever be so simple and so overall emotionally gratifying as the Italians meant it to be.

Buon natale a tutti!

Loison Pasticceri Dal 1938 www.loison.com

My Italian holiday 2011 – Part One ‘The Clothing Boutique’

Posted on August 30, 2011 by Amber

The first thing I did when we arrived in Italy was establish that I had not brought enough clothes with me. Not that it is at all very cold there. It is that I am now nearing forty, and am of the firm opinion that I need a different skirt to go with each pair of high heeled shoes I own. Plus a few changes, depending on mood. More often I carry a full change of light clothes in my spacious sisal shopping bag, including matching brassiere. Just in case.

My husband dutifully drove me to the nearest boutique to do the required shopping. He did this at my request, despite it being late morning already, and the threat of the shops closing for lunch was imminent. The shop was situated at the back of a bleak and hot mini-industrial area just outside of Spilimbergo. He took his white gentleman’s hat into his hand as if he were entering a church, and came inside with me.

The personnel in the spacious and cool shop ignored us completely as I flitted efficiently from row to row. I was on a mission. I felt like a grandmother picking her favourite berries and who was extremely pleased with the harvest. My husband waited patiently, advising me here and there. He casually grabbed a pair of shorts for me from the men’s department when I said: “shorts”. Then I did some energetic trying on and changes at the fitting cubicle with the curtain half open so he could see it all. The discarded clothing came flying out like when a bird is cleaning out her nest. The men’s shorts were a hit; a few of the skirts to narrow, others too wide. I was far from done. After a generous half an hour he left the shop to smoke a cigarette in the car park.

The ladies tending to the shop were left in peace. There was no one else in the place, and they eyed me with respectful distance while they folded and tagged items with demure. I didn’t need help. Over the top of racks of lycra blouses with flashing sequins I could see my husband outside, leaning against the car, smoking. That white hat is a flag in the midday sun. Knowing that he was relaxed made me more determined than ever. Leaving no single item in the hall untouched, I finally settled on several skirts, a blouse, some undergarments and the shorts, and paid swiftly by credit card. My Italian was meagre but polite and my gaze unwavering. Very pleased, I marched back out into the car park, now properly set for the holidays.