Since William Jones announced the kinship of Sanskrit and the European languages, a massive body of scholarship has illuminated the development of the so-called "Indo-European" language group. This new historical philology has enormous technical achievements to its credit. But almost from the start, it became entangled with prejudices and myths--with efforts to recreate not only the lost language, but also the lost--and superior--civilization of the Indo-European ancestors. This drive to determine the identity and nature of the first language of humanity (...) was deeply rooted in both near eastern and western traditions. The Bible described the perfect, transparent language of Adam and followed its degeneration, caused by human sin, into the multiple, opaque languages of later nations. The three sons of Noah became, for Jewish and early Christian writers, the founders of three distinct human groups. By the sixth and seventh centuries, historians began to magnify the deeds of certain later peoples, such as the Scythians and Goths, and to connect them with the biblical genealogy of languages and races. And in the Renaissance, speculative historical etymology took root and flourished, as national pride led European intellectuals to assert that their own modern languages--for example, Flemish--either could be identified with the original one or offered the closest surviving approximation to it. Japheth, Noah's favorite son and the forefather of the Europeans, emerged as the hero who had preserved the original language in its purity. A new history of the European languages developed, one which traced them back to the language of the barbarian Scythians and emphasized the connections between Persian and European languages. It came to seem implausible that the European languages derived from Hebrew. By the eighteenth century, in short, all the preconditions were present for a discovery that the ancestors of the Europeans, like the common ancestor of their languages, had been independent of Semitic influence. A modern scholarly thesis whose political and intellectual consequences are still working themselves out reveals the continuing impact of a millennial tradition of speculation about language and history. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.1 (2004) 12-22 [Access article in PDF] Art of a Child with Autism:Drawing Systems and Proto Mathematics Julia Kellman Sung, a five year old girl with autism, was enrolled by her mother in the university Saturday art program with the hope that Sung's favorite church school teacher, a graduate student in art education, would be able to tutor her daughter during the weekly classes. (...) Though hesitant because of her inexperience with autistic children and because of Sung's frequently angry tantrums on Sundays and the little girl's inability to speak, the young teacher, nonetheless, agreed to the plan. Her concerns proved unfounded, for Sung was able to work in the midst of the churning mass of noisy pre-K classmates without any signs of the fury that drove her to screaming, biting fits in church school. Additionally, and to everyone's delight, Sung's ability to develop as an image-maker was itself confirmed within the first few weeks of art class, dispelling any remaining doubts of her art aptitude or the value of art classes for the little girl.Additional questions and considerations arose about Sung and her art during the classes. How might one understand Sung's changing imagery? What might such explanations and images suggest about Sung herself and her activities? What might her art indicate about her similarity to other children and their art making? The possible answers to these and related queriespresented themselves during the semester, suggesting new avenues for inquiry surrounding both the wordless little girl and her Saturday morning creations.What follows is the story of Sung and her graphic development as it unfolded during the art class. Further, it is an attempt to uncover what Sung's drawings suggest about methods that are useful in the examination of the art of an autistic child. Documentation was carried out with a 35 mm. camera and color copier throughout the semester. Ethnographic methods including participant observation and interviews were employed to gather contextual data. Alfred Schutz's phenomenological sociology allowed for [End Page 12] consideration of nonverbal and verbal social interactions and behaviors. 1 A search of the literature of early mathematical development and drawing systems provided the underpinnings for early insights and later hypotheses. Here is Sung's story. Sung Sung, thick black hair swung forward to hide her face, lies prone in the middle of the busy classroom oblivious to the surging, chattering children around her, so intent is she on the sketchbook in which she draws. Next to her left elbow teeters a stack of a half dozen boxes of thick craypas from which she snatches colors, never looking at the hue she grabs. Her drawing behavior has a pattern; it looks like this. Shuffle through the identical boxes. Choose a box. Open it. Snatch out a bright waxy craypa. Hold it close to the eyes. Sniff it. Lick it. If the craypa passes muster, scribble with it in rich heavy lines — banana-like arcs, large solid dots the size of cherries, rectangular patches, and a variety of forms that come and go from one drawing to the next, like heat lightening on a summer evening. Her less frequent forms include: an enclosed yellow irregular shape with a dark dot in the middle suggesting a fried egg; a two-sided zig-zag; X forms; and solid and empty trapezoids made sail-like with superimposed crosses serving as mast and boom.Unlike the chosen craypas, however, those that do not pass Sung's inspection suffer a terrible fate; they are broken in two and their pieces tossed without ceremony to opposite sides of the room to be trodden into flat, bright smears by the other children in the class, pathetic traces of Sung's art. The craypas boxes themselves also play a role. For when they are closed they are used as blocks or toys, objects to be neatly stacked and restacked or placed side by side on the floor. When they are open, however, they are mere receptacles, passively holding... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.1 (2004) 12-22 [Access article in PDF] Art of a Child with Autism:Drawing Systems and Proto Mathematics Julia Kellman Sung, a five year old girl with autism, was enrolled by her mother in the university Saturday art program with the hope that Sung's favorite church school teacher, a graduate student in art education, would be able to tutor her daughter during the weekly classes. (...) Though hesitant because of her inexperience with autistic children and because of Sung's frequently angry tantrums on Sundays and the little girl's inability to speak, the young teacher, nonetheless, agreed to the plan. Her concerns proved unfounded, for Sung was able to work in the midst of the churning mass of noisy pre-K classmates without any signs of the fury that drove her to screaming, biting fits in church school. Additionally, and to everyone's delight, Sung's ability to develop as an image-maker was itself confirmed within the first few weeks of art class, dispelling any remaining doubts of her art aptitude or the value of art classes for the little girl.Additional questions and considerations arose about Sung and her art during the classes. How might one understand Sung's changing imagery? What might such explanations and images suggest about Sung herself and her activities? What might her art indicate about her similarity to other children and their art making? The possible answers to these and related queriespresented themselves during the semester, suggesting new avenues for inquiry surrounding both the wordless little girl and her Saturday morning creations.What follows is the story of Sung and her graphic development as it unfolded during the art class. Further, it is an attempt to uncover what Sung's drawings suggest about methods that are useful in the examination of the art of an autistic child. Documentation was carried out with a 35 mm. camera and color copier throughout the semester. Ethnographic methods including participant observation and interviews were employed to gather contextual data. Alfred Schutz's phenomenological sociology allowed for [End Page 12] consideration of nonverbal and verbal social interactions and behaviors. 1 A search of the literature of early mathematical development and drawing systems provided the underpinnings for early insights and later hypotheses. Here is Sung's story. Sung Sung, thick black hair swung forward to hide her face, lies prone in the middle of the busy classroom oblivious to the surging, chattering children around her, so intent is she on the sketchbook in which she draws. Next to her left elbow teeters a stack of a half dozen boxes of thick craypas from which she snatches colors, never looking at the hue she grabs. Her drawing behavior has a pattern; it looks like this. Shuffle through the identical boxes. Choose a box. Open it. Snatch out a bright waxy craypa. Hold it close to the eyes. Sniff it. Lick it. If the craypa passes muster, scribble with it in rich heavy lines — banana-like arcs, large solid dots the size of cherries, rectangular patches, and a variety of forms that come and go from one drawing to the next, like heat lightening on a summer evening. Her less frequent forms include: an enclosed yellow irregular shape with a dark dot in the middle suggesting a fried egg; a two-sided zig-zag; X forms; and solid and empty trapezoids made sail-like with superimposed crosses serving as mast and boom.Unlike the chosen craypas, however, those that do not pass Sung's inspection suffer a terrible fate; they are broken in two and their pieces tossed without ceremony to opposite sides of the room to be trodden into flat, bright smears by the other children in the class, pathetic traces of Sung's art. The craypas boxes themselves also play a role. For when they are closed they are used as blocks or toys, objects to be neatly stacked and restacked or placed side by side on the floor. When they are open, however, they are mere receptacles, passively holding... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Place for Healing:A Hospital Art Class, Writing, and a Researcher's TaskJulia Kellman (bio)Introduction[O]bjects transform the top of our chest into a site of memory. I think of private landscapes like this one as querencias, places that hold the heart. The word has been translated as homing instinct and affection. Expatriate Alastair Reid introduced me to it in 1965, writing about the Spanish bullfight in The New Yorker. After (...) the first wound the bull chooses his querencia, the place in the ring where he returns for a moment to rest before the fight goes on, and where he finally dies. Querencia comes from the common Spanish verb querer; among its many meanings are to love, to want, to hold, and to command. Reid spoke of hometowns and native countries as querencias; exiles cling to their memories of them.1Place, "space that has the capacity to be remembered and to evoke what is most precious,"2 by its nature orients us to a particular perspective, to a way of looking at the world. Each place has its own local accent, its own constellation of habits, its own rhythm of language and thought. We are grounded in landscape in the same manner that we are situated in our social world, imprinted like other creatures on a typography, pattern of weather, cycle of seasons, scents, and colors.3Our hearts, too, are embedded in such places; and in this article, through this "act of personal witness," this "inscription of a self and a description of an object" as the anthropologist and writer Ruth Benhar4 describes it, we will see how the members of an art class for people with HIV/AIDS at a local hospital have similarly become grounded in their art space and in the tiny art community that has grown up around it. Additionally, we will discover the importance of a more descriptive style of writing as means for examining the role of art in the lives of people who are ill, for their various difficult [End Page 106] situations call for particular clarity and empathy that both honors and relates the stories of their lives. It will become clear as this article proceeds that the personal engagement of a researcher/writer in such a situation is critical as well. For not only must she be open—vulnerable, as Behar suggests—to the people with whom she works as a means of spanning the chasm between a life of illness and a life of health, but she must also be sensitive to the reader's needs, for she is the reader's guide and surrogate.5 This role as guide and alter-ego demands that the researcher tell the story of other lives in a manner that enables the reader to empathetically and eagerly undertake a journey with the researcher into a world unlike her own.6Personal Engagement: The Researcher/WriterHoward Brody, doctor and medical ethicist, explains the necessity for stories of illness to be descriptive.7 He asserts that the stories in which we are most interested are not merely factual recitations; they are about what the illness means to the individual—they include how that person understands events. "It is far too simple-minded" he writes, to assume that "the writer of literature presents to us a world of fantasy that never existed whereas the author of a nonfictional pathography has some special insight into the world as it really exists, even if the relevant world is nothing but his own subjective experiences."8 He concludes "in stories of that sort (stories of the meaning of things) the line between so-called truth and fiction becomes more blurred and ceases to affect the uses we make of the stories for the deeper understanding of the human response to illness."9 Further, Brody continues, one must understand stories of sickness in order to truly develop a philosophical understanding of what it means to be ill. Such an understanding, Brody suggests, not only provides ethical guidance for health care workers and others but also will lead to improved care for patients and better education of health professionals.10 This view of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:HIV, Art, and a Journey toward Healing:One Man's StoryJulia Kellman (bio)Some of the territory is wilder and reports do not tally. The guides are good for only so much. In these wild places I become part of the map, part of the story, adding my versions there. This Talmudic layering of story on story, map on map, multiplies possibilities, but also warns me of the weight of accumulation. I (...) live in one world—material, seemingly solid—and the weight of that is quite enough.1I have just reread anthropologist Ruth Behar's2 essay, "Anthropology That Breaks Your Heart." It started me thinking about several things—the outer limits of psychic pain, for example, or the relationship of the researcher and the researched, of bearing witness and giving testimony, and of the "ethnographic experience of talking, listening, transcribing, translating, and interpreting" that forms the core of enquiry about people and their lives.3 What can I say, I wonder, to touch readers in such a way that they see the indispensable truth in the individual stories that develop from such enquiries? How can my role as interpreter and witness lead to the understanding that the buffeting winds of lived experience (those of the researcher and of those who are researched) are not inconveniences but an essential quality of humanistic research? How can I use the accretion of stories that make up my research and my life (as if there were a difference), I muse, as I sit at my computer screen reading a text as "it in its turn reads me," as the writer Jeanette Winterson4 describes this experience. For over the years, I, too, not only have come to feel this pulse of the systole and diastole of telling and being told, but I have also used this alternating relationship to develop insight into the nature of the connection of researcher and researched, teacher and taught.There are two main narratives that form the core of this particular undertaking—one personal and the other the result of informal conversations, [End Page 33] formal interviews, casual interactions, social events, and interchanges during the art class for people with HIV/AIDS that I teach weekly at a local hospital. The stories both probe the mystery of disease, expression, and the search for coherence, and, in my case, the role of "the wild places on the map"5 where the researcher/writer adds her witness and testimony to the narrative to become part of the story.Individual ExperienceBefore we begin this discussion of individual experience, art, and illness, it is important to point out that there are only two general types of humanities enquiry: One enumerates, compares and contrasts, creates and tests hypotheses, reads literature, and/or examines the minutiae of materials or systems of one sort or another. The other is engaged in exploring the individual, the idiosyncratic, and the unique. Its subject is that which is particular. My research consists of the second type, qualitative to its core, and deeply sunk in the narrative, personal world of lived experience.The privacy of individual situations, our utter singularity, is one of the factors that most marks our lives as creatures. We can share our stories, describe our impressions, explain our sensations, but unless we participate in an actual experience in which our boundaries momentarily disappear, the most we can hope for is the simultaneous partaking of similar feelings with a sensitive, empathetic companion in what philosopher-sociologist Alfred Schutz6 describes as a We-relationship, an intersubjective experience that leads to sharing time, mutuality, and growing old together. Thus the ticklish nature of achieving actual interpersonal congruence makes enquiries into the specifics of actual lived experience difficult. If one is to learn anything useful from such considerations, one must focus on the individual and the story of his/her particular life journey in an intimate, extended, multifaceted manner and content one's self with the fact that all one will ever be able to report about in such an undertaking are discrete events and single people, never grand numerical accumulations or demographically significant quantities.Researcher's DisclaimerFor a reader to orient herself in... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Particularity, Presence, Art Teaching, and LearningJulia Kellman (bio)The Awful, the Particular, and the TranscendentYears ago in a life drawing class during graduate school, for who knows what reason, I chose to focus my drawing on the model's head and not on her entire form. She was wearing an enormous and elaborate black velvet hat with yards of veiling and several large red silk roses. The combination of textures, shadows, (...) colors, forms, and the suggestion of a story, of meaning beyond the exercise itself, drew me in I think. Using an entire large sheet of tan-colored drawing paper, soft vine charcoal, and a kneaded rubber eraser I began to draw, moving from the impossible hat to the model's high cheekbones, deep-set shadowed eyes, soft cheeks, and curved neck. Somewhere between the top of the paper (the crown of her hat) and the woman's face, however, my hand, my self, the drawing, the young woman, and the hat merged by some means outside my control. I was the act of drawing. I was the charcoal, the curved cheek, the dark eyes, the wonderful hat. There were no boundaries among us. No distances. The drawing, it seemed, drew me at the same time that it revealed an image of the model and her black velvet hat on the paper and tied me to the woman seated before me. I was exalted, transported, amazed.Now, as I think back to that drawing, I understand it as my first clear art experience of doing, not thinking, being, not observing that all artists encounter on their best days. It was, in another way of considering, my initial encounter with the fact that "the imaginative faculty, especially as engaged in the art process is one of the strongest and clearest ways in which we can learn within the qualitative, immediate present, within kairotic as opposed to chronic time, or within the eternal present,"1 as the art educator Kenneth [End Page 51] Beittel explains. Or, put another way, it was my experience with the fact that, as the writer Lawrence Weschler suggests in his biography of the artist Robert Irwin, "Seeing is forgetting the name of the thing one sees."2 Or, as the sculptor Anne Truitt explains, drawing can be "a direct channel between one's [my] experience and one's [my] hand."3This transformation from a distinct see-er and seen to a single entity sharing both time and space, from a distant relationship to intimacy, from a world of the generalized to the place of the particular brings us to the intertwined themes of this article: the importance of the awesome transcendent particularity of the singular—person, creature, place, object, plant, or moment in art and, similarly, religious contemplation and the likeness and/or overlap of artistic engagement with spiritual experience.In order for us to examine the artist in the midst of creating, and to explore our theme of art's relationship to the awful (think of the older usage meaning "full of awe" here) particularity of thisness as John Dun Sotus4 describes the perfection of the particular and specific, as well as to explore the relationship of art making, art learning, art teaching, and spiritual experience, exemplars are necessary. Our first exemplar is Gordie, a member of the art class I teach at a local hospital. He, as much as anyone, exemplifies artistic engagement with the current moment, its thisness in fact, and he illustrates the art maker's/learner's engagement with pure doing in the act of creating an image. Our second exemplar, the filmmaker, writer, and painter Derek Jarman,5 exemplifies by his lifetime of creative accomplishment an artist in the most literal manner. And even in the last years of his life—as sculptor, gardener, landscape designer, writer, and creator of a place of great beauty—he illuminates in both his words and in his garden his engagement with the present moment, with particularity, and with the spiritual quality that permeates his world.Gordie's Tale: Art and FlowersGordie accompanied his friend Roger to the first art class to be held at the hospital for people with... (shrink)