Keelung Indigenous Cultural Hall

Taiwan’s indigenous people are the descendents of early residents of Fukien China who crossed the Taiwan Strait six thousand years ago. The Keelung Indigenous Cultural Hall is a modest, yet cheerfully sunlit building located near the bridge to Heping Dao (Peace Island).

 

The museum displays examples of aboriginal buildings, clothing, art and artifacts. The top floor leads out on to a plaza featuring additional carved artwork, a suspension bridge, paths, and a fine view of the Pacific Ocean.

Nowhere to Hide

Once again Israel and Palestine are going at each other, and as usual, the Palestinians are getting the worst of it. Benjamin Netanyahu says that the reason so many Palestinians get killed is because Hamas “hides behind civilians.” Consider the population to the Gaza Strip: There are 9,713 people per square mile living there. Compare that to the 809 people per square mile living in Israel, the 650 in the United Kingdom, the 365 in China, or the 84 in the United States.

Is it really fair to say that Hamas hides behind its civilians in an area so crowded that there’s nowhere else to hide? For years Israel has managed to portray itself as the plucky underdog fighting for survival while surrounded by enemies. There’s some truth in that, yet Israel has been far too aggressive, far too often, and now the story is beginning to wear a bit thin. Lately it looks more like a bully than an underdog.

Neither nation is entitled to claim righteousness, high-mindedness, or innocence. However, Israel is the stronger of the two nations, and as such, she should be the first to make concessions. If Israel doesn’t modify her belligerent stance, her naked aggression will be exposed, world opinion will change, and she’ll find herself with nowhere to hide.

Is science fiction a dead genre, or is it merely un-dead?

As a science fiction fan, I follow several sites that post about eBooks. Of late, I see many new titles about werewolves, vampires and zombies. Such creatures are fine when they keep to their proper genre, but when they masquerade as science fiction I get irritated.

I like the end of the world as well as anyone, but does it always have to be the same zombie stuffed, vampire ridden post-apocalyptic world? Why can’t you authors write stories like those in Jack Vance’s “Dying Earth”? Vance mixes crumbling technology and magic without resorting to un-dead or dog-eared characters. Why can’t you guys?

Occasionally one of you gets a vampire right, but werewolves? Come on. And, zombies—plah-eze—they are so implausible. I mean, can a walking sack of rotting flesh get readers to suspend disbelief? Let’s try something new, something with at least a trace of science in it, not another werewolf story. Is the world going to the dogs, or what? 

The Rock

Peter Blume’s painting, “The Rock” is one of my favorites at The Art Institute of Chicago. Some have concluded that this painting symbolizes hopeful renewal in a postwar or post-apocalyptic world. At first glance, this makes sense; however, I viewed this painting recently and came to darker conclusions.

 That destruction has occurred and renewal is occurring is clear from the ruined building on the right and the construction on the left. The trees in the background possibly lack leaves because of the season, but the shirtless workers in the foreground suggest warmer weather. I think the forest experienced a recent fire, perhaps the same fire that destroyed the building on the right.

Though the painting’s right and left sides create its general theme, what is occurring in its middle is less clear. The woman on the left side of the rock is reverently patting the soil beneath the rock in an attempt to stabilize its foundation. The man on its right could be working to restore the rock’s foundation, but he could also be destroying it. The workers supplying shaped stones for the construction on the painting’s left side suggest that the man with the shovel is removing the soil and stone which support the rock.

What about the rock itself? Does it actually represent hopefulness, or does it represent decay and futility instead? Only one figure in the painting is capable of giving birth, and this woman seems determined to preserve the rock’s foundation. There’s an animal skeleton directly above her, a symbol of death and decay. The grass next to the rock is dried and dying and the roots beneath it are dead and detached. Even the red blooms are not those of flowers, but of fungus, a plant which thrives on decay.

The woman’s efforts to keep the rock from falling are futile — the rock is already dead. A closer look reveals that it is not formed from enduring material such as marble or granite, but of decaying organic matter. For the rock is a watermelon, split, overripe and rotting. There’s no future here. Ultimately civilization cannot be rebuilt. It is destined to crumble and rot.

 Click to see Peter Blume’s, "The Rock".