I’m trying to play around with TEI using the TEI by Example Project. I tried coding Emily Dickinson’s poem “Success.” It’s not really a success. I generated the text at the left using the coding on right, but WordPress effectively converted the code, so as far as I can tell it’s not actually determining the present appearance of the text. I’m sensible that I’m skipping ahead too quickly through the tutorial; I need to start over, slowly, when I have time. Most importantly, I still don’t really get the value of TEI. How is it worth the trouble? I hope we can discuss on Thursday. Continue reading
[Cross-posted with “The High-School Canon,” my EGL 492 blog.]
Here’s a cirrus word cloud of Huck Finn. I generated it by pasting the plain text Gutenberg.org edition, minus the header and footer information, into Voyant Tools, a machine-reading data visualization suite. You can try it yourself. Continue reading Machine-Reading Huckleberry Finn
For my blog post this week, I would like to discuss the topic of MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses). I find this topic to be particularly salient to the Digital Humanities, in that MOOCs also seek to reconcile traditional academic scholarship with an increasingly digitized world. In addition to conventional course materials (i.e. video lectures, quizzes, readings, essay / lab assignments), these courses offer virtually endless opportunities for accessibility, participation, collaboration, scholastic achievement, and career advancement on the worldwide web (MOOC.ORG). The two MOOCs I would like to explore in this post are Coursera and Skillshare. Continue reading Exploring MOOCs
While reading the articles for this week, I was particularly struck by the way both works focus on some form of the “ideal.” Fishkin’s article could be characterized almost as a type of dream-weaving, as she enumerates and describes a number of ideal projects. Murrieta-Flores, Donaldson, and Gregory, by contrast, employ the rhetoric of the scientific article, yet their very project seems to be attempting to create the ideal geospatial representation of a literary work.
In “Deep Maps’: A Brief for Digital Palimpsest Mapping Projects,” Shelley Fishkin proposes a project, or series of projects, intended to motivate novel methods of collaboration across linguistic, geographic, temporal and socio-cultural boundaries and cultivate “global citizens” who view cross-disciplinary work as the ideal model of transnational American Studies and, indeed, literary scholarship as a whole. She describes Deep Maps of World War II sites such as Pearl Harbor or Hiroshima as a potential starting point for “palimpsests” that illustrate myriad renditions of “events, texts, [or] phenomena” (3). Deep Maps, Fishkin’s suggested pronunciation for the acronym DPMPs (Digital Palimpsest Mapping Projects), would serve as digital receptacles and diagrams of archival material, either currently accessible or potentially digitizable, which elucidate eyewitness accounts, personal narratives, transnational memorials, and literary reactions to these events. Continue reading Literary Works in Deep Mapping
Returning to Digital_Humanities, the introductory textbook by Burdick et. al., digital mapping is described as a way for scholars to engage with the increasingly fluid boundaries of physical landscapes:1
Within a dynamic, ever-changing environment, new data sets can be overlaid, new annotations can be added, new relationships among maps can be discovered, and, perhaps most importantly, missing voices can be returned to specific locations through “writerly” projects of memory. (Burdick et al. 47)
- Burdick, Anne et al. Digital_Humanities. MIT Press, 2012. p. 46. ↩
I unfortunately won’t be able to attend class this week for our project “show and tell,” so I thought that it would be only fair for me to post what I’m currently working on here.
Like many others in our class, I’ve changed my project from what I was originally working on at the beginning of this semester, both in content and form. Rather than working on a Dracula mapping project, I’m instead using Voyant to trace and visualize how Poe creates atmospheres of horror/terror/fear/dread in his short stories. This project will serve as a complement to the paper I’m writing for Professor Scheckel’s course, “Mind/Body/Emotion in 19th-Century American Culture.”
Christine L. Borgman provides a the following as her definition of scholarly communication: “By scholarly communication we mean the study of how scholars in any field…use and disseminate information through formal and informal channels.” 1 Although Borgman wrote this in 1990, her definition of scholarly communication remains a helpful one in our current digital age. I will use this blog post to first explain why graduate students should care about scholarly communication before providing a closer look at the affordances of my two favorite scholarly communication hubs, (Academic) Twitter and Humanities Commons.
- Borgman, Christine L. Quoted in Wendy Pradt Lougee’s “Scholarly Communication and Libraries Unbound: The Opportunity of the Commons,” Understanding Knowledge as a Commons: From Theory to Practice, pp. 312. ↩
While reading the articles for this week, I paid particular note to this passage from Patrick Jagoda’s “Videogame Criticism and Games in the Twenty-First Century”: “A third major area of work in the study of videogames has to do with practical design. Unlike a discipline such as English—in which there is often a wide gap between literary criticism and creative writing—game studies regularly eschews divisions between theory and practice.” 1
I was reminded of a recent conversation with a friend of mine who has a film degree. We were talking about the state of the field in English studies and comparing it to film studies, and he told me that, at least in his program, theory and practice went hand-in-hand; one of the major end-goals of studying film is to figure out how to make a film yourself (and possibly the other way around). Certainly English departments aren’t unique in making this division–art history departments do something similar–but I wonder why some fields separate the two and others don’t.
- Jagoda, Patrick. “Videogame Criticism and Games in the Twenty-First Century.” American Literary History, vol. 29, iss. 1, 1 Feb. 2017, pp. 205–18, doi-org.proxy.library.stonybrook.edu/10.1093/alh/ajw064 ↩
In his article, “Game Design as Narrative Architecture,” Henry Jenkins offers “a middle ground position between the ludologists and the narratologists…examining games less as stories than as spaces ripe with narrative possibility.” 1 Given my identity as a Gothic scholar as well as our close proximity to Halloween, it seems most appropriate for me to explore Jenkins’s “middle ground” through two (fairly) recent horror video games: Until Dawn (2015) and Friday the 13th (2017). Both games use generic images and characters to create a horrifying experience for their players, however, their narrative structures are considerably different. The resulting challenges and benefits from these differences are helpful when considering the storytelling potential of video games 2.
- Jenkins, Henry. “Game Design as Narrative Architecture,” 2005; Ludologists are video game scholars who insist that their studies should focus on the rules and design of games, while narratologists insist on studying games alongside other media as a storytelling form. ↩
- While I don’t completely side with the so-called narratologists that video games are just another storytelling media, I do believe that video games have the ability to tell stories in a very particular manner ↩