About this blogue

I. Overture.

Or, on the creation of this blog.

Idle reader,

If you know me—which, if you have made the effort of finding this website, you most probably do—you will likely be suprised to see me committing myself to the internet in this way. Digital landscapes are not my natural home; it has even been said that I shun technological connection in all its forms. I have no response to such surprise, other than to acknowledge it by assuring you that I feel it too. It would be wrong to say that anything really "inspired" me to start writing this blog. The idea came from a friend, and in comparison to his other idea—that I write a book—this seemed the more doable. 

Of course, now that I have spread my sail and embarked on this project, you can know without asking that I wish for it to be of the highest quality—betraying a subtlety of understanding and communicating an intellectual beauty as great as anyone can imagine. Sadly, I fear this will not be possible. First, this is because I am writing on an iPad, which, as a compositorial tool, is abysmal. But more prominently, I feel that, despite the confident patronage of Yale University, I am unable to produce much that it will be worth your time to read.

At this point in the courtship process, other bloggers would beg your forgiveness, even indulgence, and humbly request that you judge them not by the paucity of their style, nor by the failings of their content, but solely by the solemn piety of their dedication to the task. I, however, will make no such supplication, for, as they say, each is king in one's own home, and I have no wish to supplicate a king. I leave you therefore free to voice any complaints or frustrations with my work as loudly as you like, so long as they are not so loud that I am able to hear them. In the same spirit, I encourage you to read as much or little of this blog as you would like—and at present, I must even insist that you stop reading entirely, for I have yet to write anything else.

Ave atque vale.

—the author

II. The Project.

Two and a half weeks ago, I arrived in Rome to begin an eight-week research project. When asked, I would tell people that this project was about "urban histories" of cities in the Roman Empire, and that it was somehow connected to a senior thesis I wanted to write about the humanization of landscape. This explanation satisfied most people; some, however, would press me with further questions. At this point I would usually beg off from answering, as I was unable to say anything more specific: I did not, in all honesty, know what I was going to do when I got here. Occasionally, though, I would take the opposite approach, and begin listing all the directions in which my research might go: mapping the legacy of Roman urban planning; theorizing a phenomenology of towns; translating city experiences into experimental artistic or written forms; studying architecture; hiking. The list went on. All I could say for sure was that I would be traveling; even the list of destinations was not secure. (Below is my most recent estimate.)

My projected destinations, to be reached with a combination of trains, planes, and ferries. Places already visited are in blue.

Only yesterday did I come to understand what is really at the heart of all the possible directions for my project; they are bound together by the idea of cities as human landscapes, by the tension between "the natural" and "the humanized" (or as some would say, the artificial). That the city is a humanization of a landscape is, I think, deeply ingrained in the Roman idea of town (though that is not to say that they "invented" this idea). More on this some other time. The message is that I have stopped worrying about "my topic," and am instead following different paths every day, with the knowledge that somewhere, they do all converge—like paths in a forest that collect at a clearing. (See, it's all about landscape.)

Since this realization is only one day old, this blog is also only one day old, and for that reason not much can be expected of either of them yet. In general, this site is meant to act as a sort of record of my experiences, "discoveries," and thoughts. My research method is largely based on walking and writing, attempting to both read and interpret post-Roman cities in light of their histories, geography, physical presence, and "meaning," as well as to experience how these cities are inhabited and activated by human presence. Ideally, each post on this blog will be a sort of mirror, imaging one aspect of these considerations, often with respect to a particular town.

If this all sounds rad to you, then I encourage you to subscribe (link at top of page).

Hope you enjoy.