Tabitha Campbell's Portfolio
I have been teaching high school English at Cedar Ridge for the past eight years. I primarily teach world literature (English II) and International Baccalaureate English Language and Literature, higher level (junior year, focusing on language and mass media studies). I have also taught for a summer with WorldTeach in Namibia, where I moonlighted as a media specialist, computer teacher, and teacher instructor because my school needed it! I am most excited to visit the Czech Republic to learn about the art, literature, Moravian culture, and beer. |
Cultural Connections Project 1: Global Collaborative Project (Video Synopsis)
For my classroom collaboration, my English II honors students wrote to global pen pals using penpalschools.com. We completed the project "World News," which gave students a chance to find articles about a different global topic (the environment, immigration, human rights, etc.), respond to them, and share their writing with their pen pals each week. |
Cultural Connections Project 2: Scripted Duologue Based on Meetup Group or AirBnb City Experience (GoAnimate)
Discussing Czech Myths and Monuments with Dan on the Students' Velvet Revolution Air B&B Tour |
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Cultural Connections Project 3: Experience-Based Travel Writing Based on Meetup Group or AirBnb City Experience (Post on Travel Blog)
Delectable Dumplings in Zizkov: An Epicurean Souvenir
It all started with the search for a perfect souvenir: something that would immediately remind me of Prague, something that I could share with friends and family for years to come, something that wouldn’t simply gather dust on a shelf. In pursuit of this goal, I chose to spend an evening with Tereza, a young Czech woman, who then taught me how to make the most delectable, but surprisingly simple, fruit dumplings.
When I arrived in Tereza’s neighborhood, Zizkov, I immediately noticed groups of boisterous young people walking together and a large park with exercise stations and graffitied statues. Walking through the cobblestone streets, Tereza explained the history and character of her neighborhood. Once we were settled in her apartment, she made us tea, explained many different types of dumplings, and explained the century old tradition of the open faced sandwiches we ate in her kitchen. I had never eaten a sandwich with a potato salad layer, but that starchy goodness will definitely make an appearance in my kitchen back home!
Tereza guided us carefully through preparing the market fresh plums and apricots, and walked us through weighing and adding the flour, butter, baking powder, and creamy cheese that formed the dough. As we kneaded and kneaded, we discussed careers, interests, our first impressions of Prague and Czech culture, and her recommendations for the rest of our trip (drink more Czech beer, try the butcher shop near the old Town square, dance clubs are better in Budapest).
Although I carefully wrapped each fruit in the dough, after gently placing them in the water to boil, I realized that my sealing technique was not as effective as I had thought. Despite the six sad, water-logged dumplings that did not make it to the plate, the eighteen others that did were delicious. Tereza taught us the proper order for topping your traditional Czech fruit dumplings (sugar, poppy seeds, then butter drizzled on top, with sour cream on the side), and, five dumplings later, I left as a very satisfied, accomplished pseudo-Czech cook.
Reflecting on the tram ride home with what felt like five pounds of dumplings in my lap, I realized what a special experience. I was invited into someone's home and, over the course of two and a half hours, I learned about her life, her career, her goals, her political views, and her grandmother's dumplings. It simply doesn't get more authentic than this!
Delectable Dumplings in Zizkov: An Epicurean Souvenir
It all started with the search for a perfect souvenir: something that would immediately remind me of Prague, something that I could share with friends and family for years to come, something that wouldn’t simply gather dust on a shelf. In pursuit of this goal, I chose to spend an evening with Tereza, a young Czech woman, who then taught me how to make the most delectable, but surprisingly simple, fruit dumplings.
When I arrived in Tereza’s neighborhood, Zizkov, I immediately noticed groups of boisterous young people walking together and a large park with exercise stations and graffitied statues. Walking through the cobblestone streets, Tereza explained the history and character of her neighborhood. Once we were settled in her apartment, she made us tea, explained many different types of dumplings, and explained the century old tradition of the open faced sandwiches we ate in her kitchen. I had never eaten a sandwich with a potato salad layer, but that starchy goodness will definitely make an appearance in my kitchen back home!
Tereza guided us carefully through preparing the market fresh plums and apricots, and walked us through weighing and adding the flour, butter, baking powder, and creamy cheese that formed the dough. As we kneaded and kneaded, we discussed careers, interests, our first impressions of Prague and Czech culture, and her recommendations for the rest of our trip (drink more Czech beer, try the butcher shop near the old Town square, dance clubs are better in Budapest).
Although I carefully wrapped each fruit in the dough, after gently placing them in the water to boil, I realized that my sealing technique was not as effective as I had thought. Despite the six sad, water-logged dumplings that did not make it to the plate, the eighteen others that did were delicious. Tereza taught us the proper order for topping your traditional Czech fruit dumplings (sugar, poppy seeds, then butter drizzled on top, with sour cream on the side), and, five dumplings later, I left as a very satisfied, accomplished pseudo-Czech cook.
Reflecting on the tram ride home with what felt like five pounds of dumplings in my lap, I realized what a special experience. I was invited into someone's home and, over the course of two and a half hours, I learned about her life, her career, her goals, her political views, and her grandmother's dumplings. It simply doesn't get more authentic than this!
Cultural Collections Project 1: Mapping Culture (Google Maps)
This is my map for my thematic Cultural Collections project, which focuses on how places and structures (monuments, memorials, historic sites, cemeteries) can help balance the act of remembering and healing from traumatic events. I also think it is fascinating what, how, and when societies choose to memorialize people or events, and this act of choosing to remember or forget can offer a peek into a society's cultural consciousness and latent values. |
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Cultural Collections Project 2: Timelining Culture (KnightLab)
This timeline focuses on the impact of Jan Palach and how his self-immolation has been memorialized both in and out of the Czech Republic through monument building, architecture, poetry, and art. |
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Cultural Collections Project 3: Curating Cultural Objects (Voicethread)
My voicethread focuses on two major Prague cemeteries, Vysehrad and Olsany, and the ways that Czech commemorate and remember the dead. |
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Cultural Reflections Project 1: The Last Word, Czech education articles
After reading the pieces assigned and discussing them with my small group, I was surprised to find that although there are a few obvious differences (mostly concerning tracking options at the secondary level), the Czech and American education systems face similar challenges and seem to be utilizing similar solutions. This was surprising primarily because knowing that the Czech Republic was operating under Soviet rule within my lifetime, and the development and progress of the Czech education system, to me at least, pointed to rapid progress after the Velvet Revolution in the late 1980s.
One topic that my small group focused on was the difference between how secondary schools in America approach readying our students for college or university studies and the emphasis on earning a college degree as opposed to the many options (technical school, gymnasium, vocational school) that a Czech student is presented with earlier on in their educational experience. I found it refreshing that students have several options to choose from, as one issue that I see in my school is that we do not have enough career and technical education courses to reach students who would benefit from such options. As a whole, I think that American educators and parents do our students a disservice when we present college as the only logical option, and I would like to see American schools consider incorporating some of the structure of the Czech system.
The lack of focus on college as the most preferable option for a Czech student also came up when I shared my quote with the group, which focused on the fact that only 50% of Czech students go on to complete college or university studies. I was curious as to why this was—was it due to a lack of qualified students? Financial limits? A plethora of job opportunities that do not require such a degree? Too few universities or colleges to serve the existing student population? After discussion, my group decided that the most likely factor was a strict and limiting admissions policy since university education in the Czech Republic is free for students.
After reading the pieces assigned and discussing them with my small group, I was surprised to find that although there are a few obvious differences (mostly concerning tracking options at the secondary level), the Czech and American education systems face similar challenges and seem to be utilizing similar solutions. This was surprising primarily because knowing that the Czech Republic was operating under Soviet rule within my lifetime, and the development and progress of the Czech education system, to me at least, pointed to rapid progress after the Velvet Revolution in the late 1980s.
One topic that my small group focused on was the difference between how secondary schools in America approach readying our students for college or university studies and the emphasis on earning a college degree as opposed to the many options (technical school, gymnasium, vocational school) that a Czech student is presented with earlier on in their educational experience. I found it refreshing that students have several options to choose from, as one issue that I see in my school is that we do not have enough career and technical education courses to reach students who would benefit from such options. As a whole, I think that American educators and parents do our students a disservice when we present college as the only logical option, and I would like to see American schools consider incorporating some of the structure of the Czech system.
The lack of focus on college as the most preferable option for a Czech student also came up when I shared my quote with the group, which focused on the fact that only 50% of Czech students go on to complete college or university studies. I was curious as to why this was—was it due to a lack of qualified students? Financial limits? A plethora of job opportunities that do not require such a degree? Too few universities or colleges to serve the existing student population? After discussion, my group decided that the most likely factor was a strict and limiting admissions policy since university education in the Czech Republic is free for students.
Cultural Reflections Project 2: Czech Book Club
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The Golem by Gustav Meyrink
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Reading Meyrink's The Golem for me was like dealing with a tangled ball of Christmas lights--just when I thought I had followed the thread of the narration and was making progress towards understanding the convoluted plot, I hit snarl after snarl and could never quite get the entire text untangled. Parts of the novel are interesting, as when Meyrink plays with perspective and time in nightmarish sequences, but overall, this book left me frustrated. The characters fell flat and the plot felt like an exercise in circular reasoning. Overall, I do not think I will reread The Golem, and I would recommend it only to those with a significant amount of time and patience.
View all my reviews
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Reading Meyrink's The Golem for me was like dealing with a tangled ball of Christmas lights--just when I thought I had followed the thread of the narration and was making progress towards understanding the convoluted plot, I hit snarl after snarl and could never quite get the entire text untangled. Parts of the novel are interesting, as when Meyrink plays with perspective and time in nightmarish sequences, but overall, this book left me frustrated. The characters fell flat and the plot felt like an exercise in circular reasoning. Overall, I do not think I will reread The Golem, and I would recommend it only to those with a significant amount of time and patience.
View all my reviews
Cultural Reflections Project 3: Czech Film Club
Kolya (1996)
Synopsis: Kolya tells the story of Franta Louka, a middle-aged, womanizing cellist in Prague, who enters into a fake marriage to allow his Russian bride to get her Czech papers. When she skips town to live with her boyfriend in west Germany after the wedding, Louka must take care of her son, Kolya, a five-year-old Russian boy who does not speak Czech.
Review: This movie is solidly a product of its time (produced in 1996, set in 1989 during the Velvet Revolution), which led to some problematic, sexist interactions at the beginning when Louka's character is established. However, moving past the unsavory elements of Louka's perennial-bachelor character, there are several touching moments, mostly centered around Kolya, the eponymous five year old boy that Louka must care for in the absence of the boy's mother and grandmother, that show how Louka's perspective and behavior change when he is forced to care about someone other than himself. Overall, Louka's transformation from selfish bachelor to tender parental figure is imperfect, and therefore realistic, and that makes it all the more touching for the audience. The film also does well providing insight into the historical time period in which it is set, as I personally knew little about the Velvet Revolution and this film piqued my curiosity and resulted in additional research.
Kolya (1996)
Synopsis: Kolya tells the story of Franta Louka, a middle-aged, womanizing cellist in Prague, who enters into a fake marriage to allow his Russian bride to get her Czech papers. When she skips town to live with her boyfriend in west Germany after the wedding, Louka must take care of her son, Kolya, a five-year-old Russian boy who does not speak Czech.
Review: This movie is solidly a product of its time (produced in 1996, set in 1989 during the Velvet Revolution), which led to some problematic, sexist interactions at the beginning when Louka's character is established. However, moving past the unsavory elements of Louka's perennial-bachelor character, there are several touching moments, mostly centered around Kolya, the eponymous five year old boy that Louka must care for in the absence of the boy's mother and grandmother, that show how Louka's perspective and behavior change when he is forced to care about someone other than himself. Overall, Louka's transformation from selfish bachelor to tender parental figure is imperfect, and therefore realistic, and that makes it all the more touching for the audience. The film also does well providing insight into the historical time period in which it is set, as I personally knew little about the Velvet Revolution and this film piqued my curiosity and resulted in additional research.
Cultural Reflections Project 5: Urban Neighborhood Analysis (from Field Research)
Today I toured Holesovice, a neighborhood near the Letna district. Overall, my impression of this neighborhood is that it felt transitional. There were a mix of shops, restaurants, and offices, as well as some fairly limited green space and a lot of transit options (primarily trams).
When TaVshea and I got off tram 17, I was immediately struck by the elaborate architecture of a nearby building, which, after some research, I realized was a part of the National Museum focusing on statues and monuments that I want to visit! A team of men was taking down various structures from a motorcycle parade that took place last weekend. After looking at the building from a distance (the gates were closed), we wandered over to a local park with running trails. Several families were walking together, parents, grandparents, and children, and overall the place felt warm and welcoming to me.
There was some graffiti around the park, though not as much as down the street heading towards more commercial and industrial buildings. As we continued down the street, I saw several young families walking and playing with children, including a young mother with two little girls riding scooters next to an installation (two replica felled trees painted in bright blocks of primary colors) in front of the closed-on-Mondays National Gallery. I saw several college-aged students relaxing and working at the café attached to the National Gallery, even though the Gallery itself was closed today. There were also a few groups of young people coming and going from the nearby fast food and mid-range restaurants that are prevalent in this neighborhood. Even though it was midday on a Monday, there were many people milling about, representing different age and socioeconomic groups (though they were mostly ethnically homogenous), which leads me to believe that this is an active neighborhood.
Since this neighborhood is a blend of commercial, industrial, and residential, I took note of the types of business present on the main street. There was a variety, though the most common were health services (an optometrist's office), fast food, mid-range restaurants and pubs, and secondhand stores. My favorite part of this neighborhood was a brightly-colored, Scandinavian-style elementary school building located across the street from a child psychologist and tutoring service's office. The building itself was cheerful and reminded me of the active young families I had seen, and the presence of the therapy office leads me to believe that perhaps children in this neighborhood have better access to mental heath support than they might find in other neighborhoods. There were also a few smaller galleries and cafes. One area for improvement might be in recycling. The only recycling bin I saw was a donation bin for clothing outside of the school; there were no other options for disposing of plastics, paper, or other recyclables, though this may be part of general Prague culture as I have not seen many recycling bins in my time here thus far.
Today I toured Holesovice, a neighborhood near the Letna district. Overall, my impression of this neighborhood is that it felt transitional. There were a mix of shops, restaurants, and offices, as well as some fairly limited green space and a lot of transit options (primarily trams).
When TaVshea and I got off tram 17, I was immediately struck by the elaborate architecture of a nearby building, which, after some research, I realized was a part of the National Museum focusing on statues and monuments that I want to visit! A team of men was taking down various structures from a motorcycle parade that took place last weekend. After looking at the building from a distance (the gates were closed), we wandered over to a local park with running trails. Several families were walking together, parents, grandparents, and children, and overall the place felt warm and welcoming to me.
There was some graffiti around the park, though not as much as down the street heading towards more commercial and industrial buildings. As we continued down the street, I saw several young families walking and playing with children, including a young mother with two little girls riding scooters next to an installation (two replica felled trees painted in bright blocks of primary colors) in front of the closed-on-Mondays National Gallery. I saw several college-aged students relaxing and working at the café attached to the National Gallery, even though the Gallery itself was closed today. There were also a few groups of young people coming and going from the nearby fast food and mid-range restaurants that are prevalent in this neighborhood. Even though it was midday on a Monday, there were many people milling about, representing different age and socioeconomic groups (though they were mostly ethnically homogenous), which leads me to believe that this is an active neighborhood.
Since this neighborhood is a blend of commercial, industrial, and residential, I took note of the types of business present on the main street. There was a variety, though the most common were health services (an optometrist's office), fast food, mid-range restaurants and pubs, and secondhand stores. My favorite part of this neighborhood was a brightly-colored, Scandinavian-style elementary school building located across the street from a child psychologist and tutoring service's office. The building itself was cheerful and reminded me of the active young families I had seen, and the presence of the therapy office leads me to believe that perhaps children in this neighborhood have better access to mental heath support than they might find in other neighborhoods. There were also a few smaller galleries and cafes. One area for improvement might be in recycling. The only recycling bin I saw was a donation bin for clothing outside of the school; there were no other options for disposing of plastics, paper, or other recyclables, though this may be part of general Prague culture as I have not seen many recycling bins in my time here thus far.
Cultural Reflections Project 6: Czech Education Analysis (from Field Research)
Post your analysis here...
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Cultural Reflections Project 7: Czech Literature Analysis (from Field Research)
Franz Kafka’s short story “A Hunger Artist” recounts the story of a ritual public faster who, although his manager (“the impresario”) sets him to fast for 40 days in a public, visible cage, chooses to extend his fast because he sees no point in breaking it. The artist describes the art of fasting as “easy,” and continually rebuffs the admiration of his fans and audience, essentially degrading his accomplishment by denying its validity as an art. In this story, Kafka constructs a clear connection between the literal, physical hunger of the artist and his invisible, emotional pain, which also leads the reader to see parallels between the author (Kafka) and his creation (known only as “the artist”).
Many of the ideas explored in “A Hunger Artist” parallel Kafka’s own life and art. Unappreciated and suffering, the hunger artist sits in his cage alone at the circus, relegated to mere scenery, a curiosity on the way to the menagerie. After time, since no one understands his art or the reason behind it, the artist fades away physically as he slowly starves himself to death. He receives no funerary rites or public honors, as he is buried in a grave with the dirty straw from his cage. This ending draws a tragic parallel to Kafka's own life, as when he wrote and edited this story, he had been hospitalized for years with tuberculosis and his esophagus had swollen, rendering him unable to eat or drink. Thus, Kafka experiences a long, slow, painful death which mirrors the long, slow, public death of the artist. This allows the reader to connect the author to his character, as both are unappreciated, ignored, and misunderstood by their contemporaries and audience. As the hunger artist draws dwindling crowds and grows more isolated, he holds firm that his fasting is an art and that it is easy for him, as Kafka reveals on the final page that the reason the artist fasts is that he cannot find a food that he likes. Basically, the artist has a choice and no choice simultaneously, and he is stuck in the middle. This feeling of stagnancy is reflected in much of Kafka's personal writing, and it is apt that Kafka chooses to explore this theme through metaphor in his final work.
Franz Kafka’s short story “A Hunger Artist” recounts the story of a ritual public faster who, although his manager (“the impresario”) sets him to fast for 40 days in a public, visible cage, chooses to extend his fast because he sees no point in breaking it. The artist describes the art of fasting as “easy,” and continually rebuffs the admiration of his fans and audience, essentially degrading his accomplishment by denying its validity as an art. In this story, Kafka constructs a clear connection between the literal, physical hunger of the artist and his invisible, emotional pain, which also leads the reader to see parallels between the author (Kafka) and his creation (known only as “the artist”).
Many of the ideas explored in “A Hunger Artist” parallel Kafka’s own life and art. Unappreciated and suffering, the hunger artist sits in his cage alone at the circus, relegated to mere scenery, a curiosity on the way to the menagerie. After time, since no one understands his art or the reason behind it, the artist fades away physically as he slowly starves himself to death. He receives no funerary rites or public honors, as he is buried in a grave with the dirty straw from his cage. This ending draws a tragic parallel to Kafka's own life, as when he wrote and edited this story, he had been hospitalized for years with tuberculosis and his esophagus had swollen, rendering him unable to eat or drink. Thus, Kafka experiences a long, slow, painful death which mirrors the long, slow, public death of the artist. This allows the reader to connect the author to his character, as both are unappreciated, ignored, and misunderstood by their contemporaries and audience. As the hunger artist draws dwindling crowds and grows more isolated, he holds firm that his fasting is an art and that it is easy for him, as Kafka reveals on the final page that the reason the artist fasts is that he cannot find a food that he likes. Basically, the artist has a choice and no choice simultaneously, and he is stuck in the middle. This feeling of stagnancy is reflected in much of Kafka's personal writing, and it is apt that Kafka chooses to explore this theme through metaphor in his final work.
Cultural Reflections Project 8: Czech Art/Visual Analysis (from Field Research)
Otto Guttfreund’s “Anxiety”
Upon first viewing this statue, my eyes immediately went to the sharp angles on the sides of the piece. I see a figure of a man, hunched at the shoulders, arms grasping his own body in a protective or defensive gesture. The dark color of the stone makes me feel that this man is experiencing something negative, though the statue is carved in such a way that light does reflect off parts of his body--he isn’t totally matte or flat in color, so that could indicate both change (since the light reflects differently depending on where the viewer stands) and hope. The man’s body is not realistic--his angles are sharp, and his body does not form a normal silouhette. His face consists of two large, wide-open eyes staring blankly out, a slightly chipped nose, and a flat line of a mouth--he is not conveying a strong emotion, but rather looks like he’s waiting for something to happen to him. He feels passive to me. This could reveal the artist’s personal feelings--the title of the work, “Anxiety,” fits this figure well so I assume that the artist is sculpting from experience. I also chose this statue because it reminded me of some artifacts we saw at the Franz Kafka museum yesterday and the Kafka short story that I read for an earlier assignment, “The Hunger Artist.” The fact that a feeling of discomfort and unease seems fairly common in Czech art and literature (though it is obviously not an exclusively Czech theme) leads me to believe that Czech artists are emboldened through art to explore complex emotions, and are perhaps less reserved culturally when it comes to discussing daily strife.
Jiri Kolar's "Relief Chiasmage"
This collage is overwhelming at first simply because it is made up of thousands of tiny pieces of paper with words written on them. The image is bisected vertically down the middle by a musical staff. The musical notes are square, indicating to me that it is not modern printed sheet music--it must be something older in style. Upon closer inspection, I determined that the text is written in Latin, and the fact that red text is used for the word of God in Christian scripture and the collage text is entirely black on one side and red and black on the other led me to believe that the scraps of paper came from a Bible or other similar holy text. In the center of the frame there is a cut out of a face, though it looks sunken in and the detail and business of the text makes the face difficult to see at first glance. The person's profile faces the viewer's left, looking into the red and black text. I'm honestly not sure what this piece is intended to convey, but I think that since the collage is constructed from the words of scripture and the music looks like a piece from a Gregorian chant (pointed out by one of my group mates), I think it is some kind of commentary on religion and identity. I can connect this back to my experiences in the Czech Republic so far by the fact that it is a highly secular country; in fact, several tour guides have described it as the "most Atheist country in Europe," so the fact that religious text makes up the image the profile of the person, but it fades into the background unless you scrutinize it closely, might connect to the secular nature of the artist and his society.
Otto Guttfreund’s “Anxiety”
Upon first viewing this statue, my eyes immediately went to the sharp angles on the sides of the piece. I see a figure of a man, hunched at the shoulders, arms grasping his own body in a protective or defensive gesture. The dark color of the stone makes me feel that this man is experiencing something negative, though the statue is carved in such a way that light does reflect off parts of his body--he isn’t totally matte or flat in color, so that could indicate both change (since the light reflects differently depending on where the viewer stands) and hope. The man’s body is not realistic--his angles are sharp, and his body does not form a normal silouhette. His face consists of two large, wide-open eyes staring blankly out, a slightly chipped nose, and a flat line of a mouth--he is not conveying a strong emotion, but rather looks like he’s waiting for something to happen to him. He feels passive to me. This could reveal the artist’s personal feelings--the title of the work, “Anxiety,” fits this figure well so I assume that the artist is sculpting from experience. I also chose this statue because it reminded me of some artifacts we saw at the Franz Kafka museum yesterday and the Kafka short story that I read for an earlier assignment, “The Hunger Artist.” The fact that a feeling of discomfort and unease seems fairly common in Czech art and literature (though it is obviously not an exclusively Czech theme) leads me to believe that Czech artists are emboldened through art to explore complex emotions, and are perhaps less reserved culturally when it comes to discussing daily strife.
Jiri Kolar's "Relief Chiasmage"
This collage is overwhelming at first simply because it is made up of thousands of tiny pieces of paper with words written on them. The image is bisected vertically down the middle by a musical staff. The musical notes are square, indicating to me that it is not modern printed sheet music--it must be something older in style. Upon closer inspection, I determined that the text is written in Latin, and the fact that red text is used for the word of God in Christian scripture and the collage text is entirely black on one side and red and black on the other led me to believe that the scraps of paper came from a Bible or other similar holy text. In the center of the frame there is a cut out of a face, though it looks sunken in and the detail and business of the text makes the face difficult to see at first glance. The person's profile faces the viewer's left, looking into the red and black text. I'm honestly not sure what this piece is intended to convey, but I think that since the collage is constructed from the words of scripture and the music looks like a piece from a Gregorian chant (pointed out by one of my group mates), I think it is some kind of commentary on religion and identity. I can connect this back to my experiences in the Czech Republic so far by the fact that it is a highly secular country; in fact, several tour guides have described it as the "most Atheist country in Europe," so the fact that religious text makes up the image the profile of the person, but it fades into the background unless you scrutinize it closely, might connect to the secular nature of the artist and his society.
Cultural Reflections Project 9: Czech Site Analysis, Site-Based Travel Writing (Post on Travel Blog)
Dresdener Frauenkirche and Dome: A View Not to Miss!
“The not-to-be-underestimated effort of the ascension requires a good health constitution. Sturdy footwear is required.” That warning is displayed prominently on the website and entrance to entryway g for the Dresden Frauenkirche (“church of our lady”). After some quick mental math regarding how many miles I had hiked in the last week and a half, I decided that I was up for the challenge. Though I am only 5 feet 3 inches tall and joke that my height means I should stay close to the ground, I am glad that I pushed myself to the top of the gorgeous but intimidating Frauenkirche dome.
If you are physically able to do so, you should definitely make time to tour both the church's interior and to climb the done to the observation deck. Though the ramp is steep at parts and the final ladder ascending to the observation deck is NOT for the faint of heart, once you mount the 258 steps to the top and get a glimpse of the breathtaking 360 degree view of Dresden below you, the end is more than worth the effort and cost, a mere 8 euro. To aid in your ascent, the first 87 feet up are facilitated by a quick and modern elevator. The entire climb up and down was clearly meticulously planned, with separate entrances and exits to prevent traffic jams in either direction (thank you, German efficiency!). The ramp wraps around the building two and a half times, and as you walk, you can see the ornate decorations of the church’s main dome since you are on eye level with the cherubs! You can also find inlaid pieces of rock and old stone plaques periodically along the interior walls, as these markers were saved and added to the building after it was reconstructed beginning in 1994 and concluding in 2005, 60 years after the original church was gutted by the Allied bombing of Dresden at the end of World War II.
The viewing platform itself, a staggering 220 feet from the cobblestones below, is wide enough for a few people to navigate, and there are seating options if you need a moment to take in the view before heading back down. Overall, a small fee offered me unbeatable views both inside and outside the church, and provided a view of Dresden that I will never forget.
Dresdener Frauenkirche and Dome: A View Not to Miss!
“The not-to-be-underestimated effort of the ascension requires a good health constitution. Sturdy footwear is required.” That warning is displayed prominently on the website and entrance to entryway g for the Dresden Frauenkirche (“church of our lady”). After some quick mental math regarding how many miles I had hiked in the last week and a half, I decided that I was up for the challenge. Though I am only 5 feet 3 inches tall and joke that my height means I should stay close to the ground, I am glad that I pushed myself to the top of the gorgeous but intimidating Frauenkirche dome.
If you are physically able to do so, you should definitely make time to tour both the church's interior and to climb the done to the observation deck. Though the ramp is steep at parts and the final ladder ascending to the observation deck is NOT for the faint of heart, once you mount the 258 steps to the top and get a glimpse of the breathtaking 360 degree view of Dresden below you, the end is more than worth the effort and cost, a mere 8 euro. To aid in your ascent, the first 87 feet up are facilitated by a quick and modern elevator. The entire climb up and down was clearly meticulously planned, with separate entrances and exits to prevent traffic jams in either direction (thank you, German efficiency!). The ramp wraps around the building two and a half times, and as you walk, you can see the ornate decorations of the church’s main dome since you are on eye level with the cherubs! You can also find inlaid pieces of rock and old stone plaques periodically along the interior walls, as these markers were saved and added to the building after it was reconstructed beginning in 1994 and concluding in 2005, 60 years after the original church was gutted by the Allied bombing of Dresden at the end of World War II.
The viewing platform itself, a staggering 220 feet from the cobblestones below, is wide enough for a few people to navigate, and there are seating options if you need a moment to take in the view before heading back down. Overall, a small fee offered me unbeatable views both inside and outside the church, and provided a view of Dresden that I will never forget.