ABSTRACT This article brings together Toni Morrison, Jane Jacobs, and Howard Hodgkin to consider the stress they each place on “contact,” albeit through their distinctive media of literature, urban planning, and oil paint, respectively. The article begins with Morrison's account of the stranger as not foreign or unusual but “random.” Morrison views literature as a means of bringing readers into controlled contact with others and especially with those others one might fear, avoid, or overlook. Morrison sets the stage for thinking (...) about contact in relation to the concept of randomness. Part 2 turns to Jacobs, who investigates city sidewalks as sites of interpersonal contact that affect the safety, health, solidarity, responsibility, and freedoms of those living in urban environments. Part 3 turns to Hodgkin and his obsession with the frame as an invitation to touch. The figures brought together in this article serve as touchstones for how to create, foster, or enlarge sites for contact. Together they might help us to expand the parameters of what contact might mean, how it might occur, and where it can happen. (shrink)

Many questions concerning the future of the urban Indian landscape have at their core the conflict of a modernist design aesthetic, which privileges uniformity and predictability, with what many consider to be the unsightly presence of a chaotic local aesthetic. The hand-painted signboard, a hallmark of Indian urban experience, is largely disdained by modernist planners, who became especially vocal in the lead-up to the Commonwealth Games in 2010, when the goal of transforming Delhi into a ‘world class city’ envisioned, among (...) other measures, a reining in of the city’s frenetic signboard culture. This paper examines the ingenuity of the hand-painted signboard which employs complex visual strategies such as three-dimensional depth cues, typographic innovation and visual metaphor, while assessing the unique ways in which hand-painted signage shapes the experience of public space in an urban environment. Against ideas of uniformity and order which underpin liberal modernist visions of the city both in relation to its visual cultures and the use of public spaces, this paper proposes what we call an ‘aesthetic of accommodation’: the visual and the social order here become sites for the expression of an ‘adjustment’ ethic visible in the hybrid art practice of hand-painted signboards and the multiple rather than single usage of public spaces evident in the manner in which signboards spill onto sidewalks and sidewalks onto streets. (shrink)

Dear Ursula,Sidewalker here. Since we have exchanged letters by snail or e-mail for more than forty years, I see no reason why the Sidewalker-Porcupine correspondence should stop with your passing. There are so many things I want to share with you, comments I wish I had made earlier, explanations of why I admire you so much. Of course, one problem is that I don't know your current address. I'm hoping that where you are you have access to Utopian Studies. I (...) know in the past you thought kindly of the journal. You even allowed Utopian Studies to reprint "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" for $10.1 So I'm hoping you still glance at the journal. One disadvantage to this means of communication is that... (shrink)

Ethical thought experiments such as the trolley dilemma have been investigated extensively in the past, showing that humans act in utilitarian ways, trying to cause as little overall damage as possible. These trolley dilemmas have gained renewed attention over the past few years, especially due to the necessity of implementing moral decisions in autonomous driving vehicles. We conducted a set of experiments in which participants experienced modified trolley dilemmas as drivers in virtual reality environments. Participants had to make decisions between (...) driving in one of two lanes where different obstacles came into view. Eventually, the participants had to decide which of the objects they would crash into. Obstacles included a variety of human-like avatars of different ages and group sizes. Furthermore, the influence of sidewalks as potential safe harbors and a condition implicating self-sacrifice were tested. Results showed that participants, in general, decided in a utilitarian manner, sparing the highest number of avatars possible with a limited influence by the other variables. Derived from these findings, which are in line with the utilitarian approach in moral decision making, it will be argued for an obligatory ethics setting implemented in ADVs. (shrink)

In everyday life, we constantly encounter and deal with useful things without pausing to inquire about the sources of their intelligibility. In Div. I of Being and Time, Heidegger undertakes just such an inquiry. According to a common reading of Heidegger's analysis, the intelligibility of our everyday encounters and dealings with useful things is ultimately constituted by practical self-understandings. In this paper, I argue that while such practical self-understandings may be sufficient to constitute the intelligibility of the tools and equipment (...) specific to many practices, these “tools of the trade” are only a small portion of the things we encounter, use, and deal with on a daily basis. Practical self-understandings cannot similarly account for the intelligibility of the more mundane things—like toothbrushes and sidewalks—used in everyday life. I consider whether an anonymous self-understanding as “one,” “anyone,” or “no one in particular” —das Man—might play this intelligibility-constituting role. In examining this possibility, another type of self-understanding comes to light: cultural identities. I show that the cultural identities into which we are “thrown,” rather than practical identities or das Man, constitute the intelligibility of the abundance of mundane things that fill our everyday lives. Finally, I spell out how this finding bears on our understanding of Heidegger's notion of authenticity. (shrink)

Do future generations of a wrongdoing group have a responsibility to preserve the memory of the past? If so, what manner of responsibility is it? In this essay, I critically examine the categories of forward-looking and backward-looking collective responsibility to see what they might offer to this discussion. I argue that these concepts of responsibility are ambiguous in ways that threaten to prevent important questions from being raised. I draw my examples from contemporary German practices of preserving the memory of (...) the Holocaust and World War II, especially the stolpersteine, which are memorial plaques for individual victims embedded in the sidewalks of German cities. (shrink)

Prior to this intervention the site used to be a degraded fiscal property, that functioned as a bus yard, a police legal deposit, and a restaurant parking lot. Underneath it runs the Maldonado stream culvert, covered by a concrete slab at a depth of only -20cm. Next to the site is a 5m high railroad embankment. The plot is strategically located at the end of Juan B. Justo avenue and works as a gateway to the Tres de Febrero park (also (...) known as Bosques de Palermo, the Buenos Aires’s biggest green space designed by Charles Thays in 1875). It is situated in the neighborhood of Palermo, an area that underwent a vertiginous residential and commercial expansion since the late 90´s. -/- The design approach is influenced by the adjacent urban fragments: the grounds of the Sociedad Rural Argentina, the surrounding Avenues Santa Fe-Sarmiento; the opening of Darregueyra street expected for the near future, the implementation of historic preservation guidelines for the Tres de Febrero Park, and the proposal for the development of nearby railroad yards. -/- Specifically, the project seeks to minimize the impact of the fast traffic that runs along Bullrich avenue, improving pedestrian and cycle access to the park. At the same time it defines new landscape features, utilizing the earth made available by the tunneling works of a new subway line. -/- The project comprises the structuring of an existing 800 meter long embankment and the transformation of the sidewalk into a public promenade. This is achieved through a wider sidewalk of 12m on average, which is part of a series of longitudinal stripes ranging from high speed to quiet spaces. The first band of grass and aged tipas (tipuana tipu) buffer pedestrian and cyclist from automotive traffic. Cycle traffic is organized on its own lane. The sidewalk itself contains several bays that act as urban lounges. Next, a continuous concrete bench delimits the beginning of the slope, backed by a stripe of grass that works as a soft extension. Finally, plants for contemplation are arranged as undulating traces. Rhythmic use of retaining gabions defines longitudinal segments of varying slope, unifying the spacial criterion. This series is punctuated by an amphitheater and framed by triangular plazas at the corners. -/- Material choices for hard surfaces are constrained by concerns of durability, low cost, and consistency with other ongoing public works. -/- Hard materials, as well as the plant selection needed to be low-maintenance. The palette was kept to reinforced concrete, granitic slabs, and granite stone in large size –forming retaining gabions- and as loose finishing for pavements. Likewise, the lack of a protective enclosure and of continuous surveillance dictated that urban furniture and fixtures be anti-vandalic. The stealing of these components –from inspection lids, to benches, to plants- is a common problem in urban spaces in many Latin American cities. To prevent this, fixtures must be designed according to precise specifications regarding their weight, fixing and anchoring systems, and mechanical parts. -/- Sidewalks are organized through a 6 meter grid made of granitic white slab, infilled with textured combed nonslip concrete modules. Extended bays and corner squares are finished with white and black slabs respectively. These materials are similar to another used in public spaces under construction, in the believe that it creates a collective identification of themselves along the city. -/- The continuous reinforced concrete bench is 1.10 m wide, in order to allow people to use it in non-conventional ways. Further up on the slope, undulating paths separate plant species and provide access for gardening, but are also open to use by the public. They are paved with 2 meter-long precast concrete slabs (smaller and lighter pieces were avoided to deter robbery). As they reach the gabions they connect with sloping paths covered with loose granitic stones. The gabions themselves allow the creation of varying slopes while contributing to retaining the soil, which is reinforced with geosynthetic fabric in the perimeter to avoid landslides originated by strong rains typical of the region. -/- Urban furniture is featured on the wider bays of the sidewalk and at corner plazas. It includes seats, water fountains, bicycle racks, wastepaper baskets. As a counterpoint to the linear concrete bench, groups of concrete seats are arranged informally. These seats are a reinterpretation of the dynamic BKF chair (also known as Butterfly chair), the classic Argentinean design of the 1930’ by Antonio Bonet, Juan Kurchan, and Jorge Ferrari-Hardoy. A few low concrete tables complete these spaces as authentic urban lounges. Lighting design accompanies the general features of the project and creates a new scenography emphasizing night-time usage. -/- Landscape gardening criteria is set up by a selection of various species of high-resistant pasture (grass). The higher the slope, the higher the grass, increasing the final volumetric result. Based on considering the original tipas line (tipuana tipu, a species from the north of Argentina, yellow flowering) as a vertical wall that frames the view, the horizontal stripes contain a single species each, differing in size, shade and flowering periods –adding, in the middle band, a changing color on the big green plane slope in the same chromatic range. The final configuration of the stripe sequence from bottom to top: bermuda grass, bulbine frutescens, euryops pectinatus. The upper band existing native species is reinforced with new samples: paspalum exaltatum + cortadera selloana and ipomea + thumbergia climbing the railway fence. Each sector between gabions has an automated system of drip irrigation. Near the corner plazas, several palms are planted to provide shade and identity to the street-crossing. -/- The intervention proposes an ambivalent effect on the landscape, trascending the merely ornamental by accompanying the motorist in speed, while conforting the pedestrian with spaces for contemplation and urban relax. (shrink)

As a result of workplace clean air regulations and strict guidelines imposed by the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations in 1993, most hospitals in the United States are now virtually smoke free. Although evidence suggests that these restrictions both cause smoking employees to consume fewer cigarettes per day and induce some employees to quit smoking entirely, the policies have also driven many healthcare providers—including physicians—onto the public sidewalks for their cigarette breaks. Patients entering many hospitals pass white-coated (...) medical students and residents puffing away at the curbside. (shrink)

Color FilmAs if from darkness, from gloom, from nothing —this moment is sewn through us like a thread —from above our shoulders — from primeval night —a shining river. A flying light.Onto the screen, onto a white calm,onto a cloth, onto the ground of spatial fields,it flies through the eyeless dark,it's as voluminous as seed or salt.And in this theater, where light's been banished,where even streetlight fades away completely,other light channels vibrate,and reflections wander through the eye.The curtains open up — (...) the wings of a gate.The screen shifts our eyes and soulsso that we reach new perspectives,blown by the wind into the changingof colors, landscapes, rooms,we touch fire, earth, water.But no! Not those! And not like that!There's a wall here, the screen's always a wall.So, when the shades are opened and it's over,daylight pours through the aisles,we walk as if from underground corridors,we reach for cigarettes in our pockets.We exit like a flood, like a tide,and start talking again.O reality, blinding and sublime!We learn to love. We learn to see.StanzasThose years are slowly fading.Our house was by the railroad stationwhere engines covered in soot hammeredand invisible locomotives roared at night.Pedestrians passed by our porch,their moods dependent on loveand weather, coats and sorrowscarried over their shoulders, invisibleswords drawn but hesitant — as if awaitingtournament trumpets to launch their lives.The acacia (the one that was cut down later)grew according to a centuries-long spanof rain and sun and, like a lively banner,the windows reflected its green flash.And there was lilac, a skinny creature,diminished from the leaves to the roots.But once a year it flushed numb madlyand flourished although it was in pain.(It's worth mentioning the elderberry —dense, aromatic, and luminous,and how, after trembling on the bush,a rainbow surfaced through the drizzle.)Those lands were also full of winter —Christmassy and audacious, like an invasion,and a piercing whirlwind flew inthrough cold doorways and frozen windows.And in the lanterns oranges burned,buckets clanking through the morning,snow trampled after a blizzard,brown brick ovens roaring inside houses...Those years are fading like those legends,but who will weave us sweeter memories?Elegy for the SixtiesSummer, the smell of a soccer ball, elderberry, currant,couples made out in the evening bushes,and when the twilight descended beyond the river,the stony sidewalks smelled of warm rain.The soccer ball flew over antennas and linden trees,its body leather and cosmic.From grape-covered arbors, with pubescent sobs,songs of the prodigy Robertino spread through the world.The night thickened instantly, the ball meltedin the darkness, lamps lit up in the orchards and porches,a mysterious depth opened in a treetop,the shadows on the faded curtains spoke.The ball never came back: disappeared in the distance.Frogs croaked from neglected fountainsin the park where there were dances every night,where a saxophone wheezed, where they carried knives.The ball remained in the air, and the years unfoldedlike sandy seas, like salty deserts,and spooky carousels horrendously circledand creaked for us, as in a dream, until morning.The Museum of AntiquitiesHow the two of us walkthe cramped labyrinths of an old house!...Tapestries and trumpetsglorify an unknown couple,as if seeingour conspiracy:every toucha warm flash.And then again and againwe passin the mirrors.The clock with blazonsindicates, as always, it's two,and sneaking after usmaybe anguish, maybe a fugue...Passing portraitsand palanquinsan echo of footstepswalks with us.We disappeared somewhere for a long time(for two hundred years?For three hundred?).And when it gets dark,from unheated rooms(I seem to have behaved well,I did nothing wrong),into hot neon lightswe return forever.I carry you in my hand,and life is so vast... (shrink)

For forty years, acclaimed photographer and native Minnesotan Tom Arndt has been documenting the faces of Minnesota with unparalleled skill and candor. In Home, Arndt presents what he calls "a poem to my home state" through a series of poignant and compelling photographs that highlight the unique character of Minnesota. From Franklin Avenue in Minneapolis to Main Street in Willmar, from carnival workers at the state fair to drag racing fans in Anoka, and from small town street dances to the (...) sidewalks of Minneapolis, Home captures everyday life in the North Star State. By allowing people's lives to speak for themselves, Arndts photographs reveal the often forgotten moments that build common bridges across a diverse and ever-changing state. Enriched with more than 100 photographs, along with a personal and insightful preface by the author and a foreword by Garrison Keillor, Home is a landmark testimony to the people and culture of Minnesota. Arndt approaches his subjects - he would call them neighbors - with honesty, empathy, and humanity, and what emerges is a portrait of Minnesota that is at once achingly familiar and surprisingly new. (shrink)

Streets have always drawn the attention of photographers. As both defining features of urban landscapes and places for all varieties of chance encounter, they offer a nearly endless combination of static and moving elements that are the stuff of stunning photography--as the photographers in Road Atlas show brilliantly. From classic New York City street scenes by Helen Levitt to the works of the more contemporary street photographers, including, among others, Philip-Lorca diCorcia, Beat Streuli, and Pieter Hugo, Road Atlas presents a (...) survey of the very best of street photography. Captured here is the everyday bustle of streets, sidewalks, and alleyways from Tokyo to São Paulo and beyond, offering tantalizing glimpses of buildings and their inhabitants, people immersed in their daily activities--shedding light, in the process, on poverty and prosperity, stagnation and vanishing urban spaces, and sometimes even of radical change. Through the practiced eyes of the twenty-eight artists showcased here, streets are threads linking cities and bringing people together yet also tokens of the distances that separate them and consign them to solitude. With more than 100 photographs from the renowned DZ Bank art collection in Frankfurt, Road Atlas captures both the oft-overlooked moments of everyday life and the distinctive character of cities worldwide. It accompanies an exhibition that will also be shown at the Opelvillen Rüsselsheim and the Kunstmuseum Dieselkraftwerk Cottbus. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Feminist Studies 46, no. 1. © 2020 by Abby Minor 103 JUMP ROPE CHANT: A CURE FOR ALL KINDS OF STOMACH ACHES, ca. 2000 BCE–ca. 2000 CE Abby Minor Happy are those who stand in a field at night and hear the double rainbows land, or clap the gaps that RHYTHM makes, or shout to the beat of grasses; They are like trees planted by streams of water, which (...) yield their fruit in its season, & their leaps & their leaves & their feet do not wither, they leap up in the morning singing, in all that they do they chant, and jump, and are singing: “Blood root, hair pin, lupine, clover, watermints and cinnamon, a pencil, myrrh, poplar, juniper, copper water, whiskey, cotton root, snake root, savin, wire,  Clap your hands, all you peoples. —Psalm 47.1 104 Abby Minor wallflower, gunpowder, emeralds, myrtle, tonic of geranium, lace seeds, soap, bone stay, coltsfoot, catheters, quinine, a hoop bound with oil-silk, a hat pin, oak—” I chant a long time I chant from within a hollow place I chant all colors of cohosh Instantly as dawn clips green & white, I chant to dissolve separate parts I jump backwards and I chant So that you may bathe your feet in blood, it was in the Psalms, it’s what God does it might be a rain dance it will come to you like a beautiful cigar filled with fine leaves like the fine feet of a deer cleft in gold leaves Like rhythm a hair pin, rhythm a hat pin, rhythm a knitting hook, rhythm a nail RHYTHM makes my feet like the feet of a deer. I chant rosemary so assiduous I chant pennyroyal forever most poisonous I chant intransigence and double rainbows pop on the sidewalks of the cosmos, double Abby Minor 105 Dutch ropes spin like twin rivers, there I am planted like a tree by the water, like an outrider dropping fire into the ropes: I will kick up my heels seven times there will be a noise and the seed will fall out on the ground shouting, “Date palms, dancing, anise, trillium, turpentine, scissors, silphium, rum, cundums, pomegranate, pearlash, iron, foot baths, borax, birthwort, rue, wormwood, fern root, fig leaf, sneezing, a small ball of sheep’s wool, smart weed, brass, blackberries, goldbeaters, button hooks, hawthorn, womb veil, vinegar, saffron, glass—” If you try our hearts, RHYTHM, if you visit us by night; if I forget which is my left hand and which is your right— just let it be me; psalmist, you, a trace of blood. Me, muscle, 106 Abby Minor you, myrrh. Or you jumping, me rope. Me mirrorstep, you leave your dark prints on the light. Me ambush, you flood. Me bloodthirsty, you a smaller blood. You bloodthirsty, me myrrh. Me fortress, you a tent for the sun. Me splendor, you go on and on. Me hat pin, me flood. You poetry, me a clapping tree, or me poetry and you nothing at all. I say to RHYTHM, “You are my Rhythm, I have no song apart from you and I could never tell just where the sole leaves the sidewalk and turns into the smallest lit pause popped, suspended above shoe shadow; I could never say whether I’m the jumper picking up her knees or the turner planted so still save for her hands— and what pilots her hands, pilot, if not you, if not her hands? If not the offbeat, the bows of light we pattern, Rhythm which is both the rivet and what’s held: like rhythm a hair pin, rhythm a hat pin, rhythm a knitting hook, rhythm a nail Abby Minor 107 RHYTHM makes my feet like the feet of a deer. Now I chant the bitter melon fruit who lights up darkness and my feet do not grow weary writing RHYTHM on the sidewalk lighting incense in the bathtub filled with gin in which I lay chanting like the singers in front, like the musicians last, like the girls between them playing tambourines: Rhythm make a riot Rhythm eat a bee Rhythm use a chicken feather & make a joyful noise Praise Rhythm with mint & astringents with spearmints & syringes with pipes, pen handles, mercury... (shrink)

Antalya, which is today’s attraction center with its historical and natural beauties, was described as “a city like heaven” since ancient times. This city hosted many civilisations and states until the 13th century and became an important seaport after The Seljuks took over the region. The Seljuks applied civilization and urbanization policy also in Antalya, like other regions they ruled. The mosques, madrasahs (Islamıc theology institutions), schools, baths, caravansearis (hostels), hospices, and water cisterns in this period changed the structure of (...) the city and paved the way for improvements of public life. During the Ottomans some of these social institutions were kept active while the others no longer served to the public. However, with the construction of new social institutions, urbanization was resumed. The madrasas were generally built near or adjacent to the mosques, and had a significant role in developing the society and cultural structure. Although the madrasas in Antalya were mainly the institutions that maintain the education system, the research on these madrasas mostly focuses on their architectural features. The majority of these madrasas that are not comprehensively studied. Therefore, the functioning structures and the problems of Antalya Madrasas (Antalya, Korkuteli and Elmalı), which are reflected in the archive documents between the 17th and 20th centuries and also both individuals and institutions that had influence on these madrasas are going to be investigated in this study. Thus, this paper will shed more light on Antalya Madrasas.Summary: Antalya city, which was completely under the Seljuk sovereignty during the reign of Sultan Alaeddin Keykubat I (1219-1236), was named as Alâiyye dedicated to the Sultan's name and became an important port city of the Seljuk State after then. In the process of the fall of the Seljuk State and the beginning of the Emirates (Beylikler) period, the city became a land of Teke-Oğulları, a part of a Hamid-oğulları, and in 1390 the city became an Ottoman city after the struggle of Yıldırım Bayazid with Teke-oğuları. Antalya was home to the madrasahs, one of the formal education institutions during both the Seljuk and the Ottoman Empire. The madrasahs were built next to the mosque or in a detached area built by sometimes administrators or statesmen, sometimes by members of the dynasty or by the citizens who were wealthy. In Antalya, both single floor and second floor madrasahs were built. This study based on the documents from Prime Ministry Ottoman Archive, the travel books of İbn Bibi and Evliya Çelebi, the works on Antalya Madrasahs to be determine the madrasah in the districts of Antalya as Korkuteli and Elmalı. In addition to the Seljuk madrasahs such as Imaret Madrasah, Atabey Armagan Madrasah and Karatay Madrasah, there are also some madrasahs belonging to the Ottoman period, in Antalya. As a matter of fact, the madrasahs increased in number in the period of the Ottoman. Antalya madrasahs which are reflected in archival documents for any reason are as follows: “Süleyman Madrasah” located in Hatip Süleyman Street, “Madrasah built by Haci Mahmed” located in Elmali Street, “Hacı Abbaszâde Hacı Süleyman Madrasah” in Süleyman Street, “İsmail Efendi Madrasah” in Tahtapazarı Kızılsaray Street, Kasab Hacı Ahmed Madrasah, Hacı Cafer Ağa Madrasah, Murad Ağa Madrasah, Esir Hacı Ali Madrasah, Hacı Hasan Madrasah,“Madrasah built by Hasan Efendi” in Keçiyalar Street, in the Kadılar Street of Gediz County “Madrasah built by Yusuf Efendi”, “Madrasah built by Hızır Efendi” in Cami-i atik Street, Murat Pasha Madrasah, “Sefer Ağa Madrasah” located outside the city wall, “Büyülü Minaret Madrasah, Hatuniye Madrasah, Sheik Sinan Camii Madrasah located outside the city Wall, In addition to these madrasahs mentioned in some studies in Antalya, it is also stated that there are madrasahs such as Müsellim Madrasah, Kesik Minaret Madrasah, Karakas Madrasah, Varsakli Mehmet Efendi Madrasah, Meydan Madrasah, Surmeli Madrasah, Canmülk Madrasah, Ahi Kız Madrasah, Hacı Naim Efendi Madrasah, Susam Madrasah, Çömlekçi Madrasah, Değirmenönü Madrasah, Ak Mescid Madrasah, Âşık Doğan Madrasah and Çukur Madrasah.According to archive documents, in the sub-district of Antalya, which is used as a plateau or plateau area, some madrasahs were recorded as follows: Pınarbaşı Madrasah, Hızır Efendi Madrasah, Mustafa Efendi Madrasah, Emir Sinaneddin Madrasah, Hacı Menlü (Mevlüt) oğlu Ömer Medrese, Abu Bakr Agha Madrasah, Koca Hafız Medrese, Hacı Mollaoğlu El-Hac Ömer Madrasah, Sheikh İsmail Efendi Madrasah. However, Süleyman Fikri Erten, who works on Antalya, stated that the number of madrasahs is eight as: Haci Ahmet Madrasah of Kalkanlı, Sultan Hatun Madrasah, Koparanzade Hacı Hüseyin Madrasah, Karabayırlı Hacı Hüseyin Madrasah, Kaşlı Ali Efendi Madrasah, Hacı Hüseyin Madrasah, Şalaka Ahmet Madrasah and Oyunyeri Madrasah.The madrasahs built in Elmalı, another distict of Antalya, were as follows: Ketenci Ömer Paşa Madrasah, Esbak Mir-i Ahur Hacı Mehmet Bey Madrasah, Haydar Baba Madrasah, Arifî Ahmed Paşa Madrasah, Hüseyin Efendi Madrasah, Debbağ Baba Madrasah, Şeyh Ümmi Sinan Madrasah, Babazade Hacı Abdurrahman Madrasah, Hacı Şeyh Efendi Madrasah, Mustafa Efendi Madrasah, Hasan Efendi Madrasah, Salih Efendi Madrasah, Halil Efendi Madrasah, Çankırlı Madrasah, Osman Efendi Madrasah and “Mehmet Efendi Madrasah in Örtekiz village”. In addition, two madrasahs, except from these, were also found in the archive documents.A madrasah was built almost at every Street of Antalya and the madrasahs were usually named by the name of their builders. Madrasah students were provided with a certain amount of scholarship to continue their education according to the level of the education in the madrasahs and the level of the courses taught, salaries of the scholars, the status of the builder of the madrasah. The scholars who worked in the madrasahs worked with a document called berat-i sharif and in the case of the disappearance of this document a new berat-i sharif would be prepared by the Shaykh al-Islami. Scholars working without this document were also determined. In the scholar appointments foundation, board of trustees, müfti, and the city regents were very influential. There were also some appointments resulted from death, promotion besides leaving job with their own will. There were some problems with the appointments in Antalya and the foundation revenues to which the madrasah was attached were delivered to certain individuals until these problems were resolved.In madrasahs of Antalya, science was given a great importance and all kinds of monetary issues were tired to be eliminated with donations given to both scholars and students. However, it is observed that madrasahs were involved in some events in Antalya. As a matter of fact, among those who participated in the Şah Kulu Rebellion that took place in 1510-1511, there were also madrasah students and education training had therefore been disrupted for a long time. it is known that the state sent orders to the judges (qadi) in the region consecutively in order to prevent the rebellion. Also during this period some madrasahs were used as the activity center of armed students or people who disguised them.One of the issues that negates the education and training in the madrasahs in Antalya is that in 1890 the immigrants started to be hosted in Antalya and the guests visiting were accommodated in madrasahs as there were no other available places. This situation had been continued for a long time and even telegrams have been sent about the students living on the sidewalks.Another important issue that disrupts education was epidemic diseases. It was reported that too many people died in the district of Istanoz because of smallpox, there was no doctor and the health personnel should go to the region urgently. Despite all the problems experienced in madrasahs, they continued their activities in Antalya and while continuing their activities under the control of foundations in 1826, with the establishment of the Ministry of Foundations, they were connected to this institution. (shrink)

Most people do not think to observe geology from the sidewalks of a major city, but all David B. Williams has to do is look at building stone in any urban center to find a range of rocks equal to any assembled by plate tectonics. In Stories in Stone, he takes you on explorations to find 3.5-billion-year-old rock that looks like swirled pink-and-black taffy, a gas station made of petrified wood, and a Florida fort that has withstood three hundred (...) years of attacks and hurricanes, despite being made of a stone that has the consistency of a granola bar. Williams also weaves in the cultural history of stone, explaining why a white fossil-rich limestone from Indiana became the only building stone used in all fifty states; how in 1825, the construction of the Bunker Hill Monument led to America’s first commercial railroad; and why when the same kind of marble used by Michelangelo clad a Chicago skyscraper it warped so much after nineteen years that all 44,000 panels of it had to be replaced. This love letter to building stone brings to life the geology you can see in the structures of every city. (shrink)

Just north of the Arctic Circle sits Kotzebue, a town of the Inupiat people that has endured for over a century. In this compelling visual essay, Dennis Witmer captures scenes on its Front Street, the main thoroughfare whose buildings have evolved from the sod huts of Native cultures to permanent wood and concrete edifices. From front yards with parked snow machines to townspeople peacefully strolling down sidewalks, the striking black-and-white images in Front Street, Kotzebue offer a thought-provoking view of (...) life in the Arctic and people’s methods of coexisting with the brutality of nature. (shrink)

The mayor of Bogotá, Enrique Peñalosa strives to deliver transit services that promote social equity through bicycle lanes, improved sidewalks, and a world-famous Bus Rapid Transit system, “TransMilenio.” Through examining the principles that guide his planning, we can flesh out a starting point for socially just transit systems. While such measures can alleviate several harms that transit systems cause, they rest on an incomplete foundation due to their top-down nature. To amend this situation, the author argues for a restorative (...) justice approach to transportation democracy, using examples from Peñalosa’s mayoral tenure. In turn, lessons from Bogotá’s transportation history reveal how to develop transit systems that strongly favor justice. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Surprised by DisabilityEmily K. MichaelToday I am meeting Diana, one of my young blind students, for coffee. Soon she will enroll in our summer program that teaches blind teenagers independent living skills and self–advocacy. Her teachers explain that she has prepared questions for me.“So,” Diana begins, as we follow the uneven sidewalk toward the restaurant. “What would you do if you wanted to go outside without your sunglasses?”I can (...) guess why she poses this question, but I conceal my theory for now. Instead, I smile and adjust the large, dark sunglasses that fit over my regular glasses. “Why would I want to do that?”“I don’t know... Just say, you wanted to,” she finishes diffidently. She walks slightly in front of me, the familiar sound of her white cane scraping and tapping against the bricks laid in the sidewalk. I rarely travel with other blind people, so the sound of her cane comforts me.“I’m so sensitive to light that I’d be miserable without my shades,” I explain. I’m careful with my tone here. Like me, Diana is unable to read facial expressions—she listens attentively to vocal cues. She is a smart 13–year–old, and she will notice if I start to sound preachy. [End Page 207]“Okay, so what if you wanted to go out without your cane?”I’m ready for this one: “Diana, my cane keeps me safe. I’m happy to have it with me.” The cane alerts me to vital environmental changes, like the textural difference between sidewalks and streets. Unexpected curbs, sudden stairs, perilous sign-posts, and wayward children become apparent to me through the white cane. It is as if the cane helps sketch the boundaries around me; its contact with objects creates a vivid spatial awareness.I sense that my responses fill Diana with a mixture of defeat and frustration. I have not validated her reticence to use the shades or cane. Nor have I handed her a rhetorical placebo, a catchy phrase she can pull out whenever she feels uncomfortable with her disability. Resisting her white cane and dark glasses, she loathes the idea of looking different. Though neither of us can see others staring, we feel the judgment and pity—and the occasional sense of wonder from those for whom we’re still a novelty, the ones who want to point and exclaim, “Look Ma, a real blind girl!”Both Diana and I carry emblems of blindness that are easily recognized from a distance—visible signs of disability. Other disabled people can “pass” as nondisabled. If they don’t use wheelchairs, crutches, canes, dogs, or braces, no one will know that they have disabilities. Hence, the disabilities that don’t require visible accessories are called “invisible disabilities”—a term that strengthens the connection between disability and appearance.Diana doesn’t want to “look” blind. She wants me to give her an out, to divulge the strategies I’ve devised for leaving the house without my cane and shades. Underneath her casual questions lies the prevailing obsession, “What’s the secret to looking normal?” As a successful blind woman, I must have it figured out. The secret, Diana, is easy to articulate and difficult to enforce. I can write it more readily than I can live it.The secret begins with a very broad spectrum of acceptance. First, I must accept myself as a blind woman who needs a cane and dark glasses to travel in safety and confidence. Then I must accept that these mobility aids are uncommon and highly visible—which means that, almost every time I go out, people will approach me. And lastly, I must accept that the attitudes of others do not determine who I am, that their idea of blindness does not define my experience of it.The white cane was not always easy for me to carry. Though I have been legally blind from birth, I did not use the white cane in my daily life until high school. Before my freshman year, I could pass as nondisabled. At high school, I found myself on a large, crowded campus with only six minutes... (shrink)