Before I go into my story, I want to reflect on an inspiring writer of the environment, politics, place and art, who lives in San Francisco. Her name is Rebecca Solnit. After reading some of her pieces—‘The Limits of Landscape’ and ‘Hope in the Dark’—and attending her lecture on maps, it really got me thinking about the way in which we design our notion of a place or many places. In her lecture, Solnit showed a variety of maps, maps that are so beautiful, some colourful, others were black and white or sepia, there were pictures of women, men, ships, boats, trees, flowers, circles, squares, some without text and some with. She emphasised how maps tell stories, along with the idea of everyone having several maps (of even one place)—certain transformations, experiences, etc., and that they do not always have to tell you how to get from point A to point B. For instance, I was born and raised in Moscow, Russia. For me, I see Moscow as a home, a place where my heart and soul reside. My dacha (Russian for summer house), the images that come to mind, as you shall see further on, are different than someone who comes and visits. My experiences and my view of my dacha is very different than, say, your image of what my dacha looks like, what you feel versus what I feel when I am there (of which you shall also learn).
This concept of maps, as accentuated by Solnit, is significant to our project of ‘Envisioning a Post-Carbon City.’ It conveys that no matter how well—I or someone else in my group, for instance— can explain our vision of our village, that vision will always be different for each person. Our minds construct concepts in various ways, we each carry memories of places, remember certain moments and imagine certain areas and or times that continuously change. For example, say that you and I sit on a bench, eat a red apple, and look ahead at what seems like, a never ending blue ocean, and above us, we also see a blue sky with white clouds. Now, this same place may be where I first saw a whale, whereas, this place for you may have been where you first experiences your first kiss. Or take the red apple as another example. I may say ‘red apple,’ but maybe the red apple I am thinking of is a McIntosh, whereas yours may be a Granny Smith. I am attempting to accentuate that time, place, concepts, images, items, etc., differ from person to person, especially since each of us flourish and grow as unique individuals, with unique and individual mentalities. We fashion our own mind maps, maps that constantly transform, and no matter how well we attempt to describe our maps, what the person on the receiving end may envision, will always differ from your own. What our groups envision with each of their projects, how they describe it, and what it means for the group as a whole (as well as individually), varies from one reader to the next. Another important aspect that correlates with maps, entail the sensations derived from those maps, and together, they help create our community village, and what our community village represents.
With this said, I am going to present to you two of my very own maps. The first describes what I see and what and how I feel, sitting on the grass at the University of San Francisco, facing towards the southern part of the city. This map is in the form of a poem. The second one illustrates a place very dear to me, my dacha (a Russian summer home) in Moscow, Russia. Here, I share a moment of what you may expect if you visit there during the summer months (from May to August).
What do I see?
The southern view of San Francisco.
The green grass, dancing like a disco,
from the wind that keeps blowing.
I see the people who keep on going,
walking past me and,
who are sitting on the land.
Now that land is green, green grass
as though it was painted to last, forever.
But forever can’t last, nope, never.
I see the law school building,
the liberal arts building,
the great Church of St. Ignatius,
and the other little homes that stand so gracious.
But more of what I see is the vibrant sun,
dwelling in the bluest sky oh how fun,
it would be to fly,
in that painted pastel sky.
What do I feel?
I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin so white.
I feel the hard concrete beneath my bum, I am sitting upright.
I also feel the wind wafting through my hair,
I am quite aware,
of what smells.
The scent of grass dispels,
not quite that of freshly cut,
dwelling in the bluest sky oh how fun,
it would be to fly,
in that painted pastel sky.
What do I feel?
I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin so white.
I feel the hard concrete beneath my bum, I am sitting upright.
I also feel the wind wafting through my hair,
I am quite aware,
of what smells.
The scent of grass dispels,
not quite that of freshly cut,
but that of which somewhat,
reminds me of the grass in a bouquet of flowers.
Not too strong,
but a fragrance that is fresh and stays long.
I can smell a mix of foods,
mostly grilled meat that includes,
some onions fried
and fresh bread baked beside.
What do I hear?
People munching—chew, chew, swallow.
While they read and study Apollo.
I hear the birds chirping and singing their songs of the day,
sounds like it could be the first of May.
Cars run by, the sounds of their engines roaring,
trying to pass the buses who are flooring
it, to get over the steep hill.
Oh those sounds definitely are overkill.
There are the swish sounds of skateboards rolling,
across the pavement, they are soaring.
What is more, I can hear people chat,
about what they’ll buy for their future flat.
Oh yes, and I cannot stress,
those damn sirens screeching louder as they get near.
I feel like my hearing will disappear!
These feelings, emotions and sounds bring me back to my home in Moscow, Russia, where my family owns a dacha. (It is here that the feelings and emotions described come alive.) Back at my dacha, which is in a small village about thirty minutes away from the city, I am at peace with myself and nature. As I sit on my white rocking swing, I gaze directly at my pink house a few meters away from me. To my left grows our small forest full of birch trees: they are white with large black spots, and remind me of a mix between a Dalmatian and a zebra. There also stands a banya, a Russian word for a sauna house, hidden within our forest. As the wind blows, the leaves on the trees sway and you can just hear the swoosh swoosh of the wind through the forest and can feel the breeze on your face and arms, maybe giving you a few goose bumps as well.
To your right you see the long front lawn, luscious green grass (like the one on my campus), with a small walking path that has been made with left over square tiles. Besides those small stepping stones, lays a block of cement at the entrance, only big enough to fit our one small compact European car. Everything is open, and yes, we have the white fence as well. You can also spot roses and dandelions and hibiscus flowers, growing, and other flowers that I cannot name, sprouting from the ground. You can see and smell the bushes of berries too, from raspberries to blueberries, to blackberries to strawberries; to berries I do not know the name for in English. Their sweet smell—absent from any chemical fertilisers or pesticides—journeys with the wind. You can almost taste my babushka’s (Russian for grandmother) cooking of borscht (beet soup). If it is the end of July or August, the ingredients—carrots, parsley and tomatoes are picked from our pesticide-free garden, however, if you come in the months of May, June or July, those ingredients, plus cabbage, potatoes, beets and celery are from a rinik (a farmer’s type market that is a 15 minute drive away). I think it is about noon time, the soup should be ready in about an hour! Yum!
If my babushka is cooking, then you most likely hear the music coming from the radio, some real Russian heart and soul type of melody. As you listen to the sweet sounds of these songs, you look up into the sky. It is a clear day so the sky is as blue as you can imagine, and the clouds are as white as snow (right as it falls) and as fluffy as a white cotton ball. At this time, I would probably be walking towards our small lake, less than ten minutes of walking. So you get up from the white swing set, and turn right towards our white fence, and you walk onto our little street. You see dachas from left to right, each one individually different: light brown, dark brown, green, blue, pink, red, wood, brick, or wood and brick combined. You keep walking, zigzagging through the small streets, and after about ten minutes of walking, you finally see the lake. Nearby are pastures and pastures of wheat stalks being grown (Russia is a major exporter of grains), which will be chopped down by huge tractors that will take away that grain, and separate the stalks at some far away factory—but you do not think about that, because that is beyond your knowledge. No, you are stuck among this beauty that surrounds you, the bees and the wasps that encircle you, buzzing, maybe even biting you. (We have these enormous flies, almost like horse flies that like to bite.) You reach the lake, and you can tell that the water is fresh because of the water lilies (water lilies only grow in fresh water). For someone who might not know this might be surprised, because the lake water looks dark and dirty, but do not worry, it is as fresh as you are when you get out of the shower.
These two illustrations, or mind maps if you will, generate emotions and feelings of peacefulness, love for nature, energy, happiness, pleasure, inspiration, fascination and the list goes on. Subsequently, the way in which Solnit describes the meanings of maps, and how they make us feel (interested, excited, depressed, inspired), correlates with the way in which my two written visuals makes me feel. These positive emotions and feelings go hand in hand with the ones that made our project of how we envision our villages, possible. Furthermore, the poem and the short description of my dacha, allows me to transform, perform, and complete our future village, because I want the life of our community village to undergo happiness, tranquility, cheerfulness, positivity, relaxation and interest. My two mind maps help inspire, of what I feel, seems vital to our community, along with the values they assist in creating: contentment, imagination, family, playfulness and knowledge sharing, just to name a few. No village in this project is absent of values and sensations. Without them, the maps we present to you would not resonate with such brilliance, excitement, strength, positivity and success.
reminds me of the grass in a bouquet of flowers.
Not too strong,
but a fragrance that is fresh and stays long.
I can smell a mix of foods,
mostly grilled meat that includes,
some onions fried
and fresh bread baked beside.
What do I hear?
People munching—chew, chew, swallow.
While they read and study Apollo.
I hear the birds chirping and singing their songs of the day,
sounds like it could be the first of May.
Cars run by, the sounds of their engines roaring,
trying to pass the buses who are flooring
it, to get over the steep hill.
Oh those sounds definitely are overkill.
There are the swish sounds of skateboards rolling,
across the pavement, they are soaring.
What is more, I can hear people chat,
about what they’ll buy for their future flat.
Oh yes, and I cannot stress,
those damn sirens screeching louder as they get near.
I feel like my hearing will disappear!
These feelings, emotions and sounds bring me back to my home in Moscow, Russia, where my family owns a dacha. (It is here that the feelings and emotions described come alive.) Back at my dacha, which is in a small village about thirty minutes away from the city, I am at peace with myself and nature. As I sit on my white rocking swing, I gaze directly at my pink house a few meters away from me. To my left grows our small forest full of birch trees: they are white with large black spots, and remind me of a mix between a Dalmatian and a zebra. There also stands a banya, a Russian word for a sauna house, hidden within our forest. As the wind blows, the leaves on the trees sway and you can just hear the swoosh swoosh of the wind through the forest and can feel the breeze on your face and arms, maybe giving you a few goose bumps as well.
To your right you see the long front lawn, luscious green grass (like the one on my campus), with a small walking path that has been made with left over square tiles. Besides those small stepping stones, lays a block of cement at the entrance, only big enough to fit our one small compact European car. Everything is open, and yes, we have the white fence as well. You can also spot roses and dandelions and hibiscus flowers, growing, and other flowers that I cannot name, sprouting from the ground. You can see and smell the bushes of berries too, from raspberries to blueberries, to blackberries to strawberries; to berries I do not know the name for in English. Their sweet smell—absent from any chemical fertilisers or pesticides—journeys with the wind. You can almost taste my babushka’s (Russian for grandmother) cooking of borscht (beet soup). If it is the end of July or August, the ingredients—carrots, parsley and tomatoes are picked from our pesticide-free garden, however, if you come in the months of May, June or July, those ingredients, plus cabbage, potatoes, beets and celery are from a rinik (a farmer’s type market that is a 15 minute drive away). I think it is about noon time, the soup should be ready in about an hour! Yum!
If my babushka is cooking, then you most likely hear the music coming from the radio, some real Russian heart and soul type of melody. As you listen to the sweet sounds of these songs, you look up into the sky. It is a clear day so the sky is as blue as you can imagine, and the clouds are as white as snow (right as it falls) and as fluffy as a white cotton ball. At this time, I would probably be walking towards our small lake, less than ten minutes of walking. So you get up from the white swing set, and turn right towards our white fence, and you walk onto our little street. You see dachas from left to right, each one individually different: light brown, dark brown, green, blue, pink, red, wood, brick, or wood and brick combined. You keep walking, zigzagging through the small streets, and after about ten minutes of walking, you finally see the lake. Nearby are pastures and pastures of wheat stalks being grown (Russia is a major exporter of grains), which will be chopped down by huge tractors that will take away that grain, and separate the stalks at some far away factory—but you do not think about that, because that is beyond your knowledge. No, you are stuck among this beauty that surrounds you, the bees and the wasps that encircle you, buzzing, maybe even biting you. (We have these enormous flies, almost like horse flies that like to bite.) You reach the lake, and you can tell that the water is fresh because of the water lilies (water lilies only grow in fresh water). For someone who might not know this might be surprised, because the lake water looks dark and dirty, but do not worry, it is as fresh as you are when you get out of the shower.
These two illustrations, or mind maps if you will, generate emotions and feelings of peacefulness, love for nature, energy, happiness, pleasure, inspiration, fascination and the list goes on. Subsequently, the way in which Solnit describes the meanings of maps, and how they make us feel (interested, excited, depressed, inspired), correlates with the way in which my two written visuals makes me feel. These positive emotions and feelings go hand in hand with the ones that made our project of how we envision our villages, possible. Furthermore, the poem and the short description of my dacha, allows me to transform, perform, and complete our future village, because I want the life of our community village to undergo happiness, tranquility, cheerfulness, positivity, relaxation and interest. My two mind maps help inspire, of what I feel, seems vital to our community, along with the values they assist in creating: contentment, imagination, family, playfulness and knowledge sharing, just to name a few. No village in this project is absent of values and sensations. Without them, the maps we present to you would not resonate with such brilliance, excitement, strength, positivity and success.
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