It’s Friday and I’m feeling a little feisty, so I thought I would kick off a visual analysis / media critique series. As an academic, a lot of what I do is boring, long, and involves words like concatenation. Way too much work for a Friday.

Instead, I thought I would offer a pithy (the academic term for “smart-a$$ed”) critique of an image that caught my fancy. To keep it short and to the point, I decided I would keep it to 250 words or less. After all, we all need challenges. Or rules. And as a professor with a decade of life inside the academy, there are few things I like more than a challenge with rules (otherwise known as tenure).

Killer critique in 250 words or less:

Today’s text — Netflix’s ad for Glow (a TV series about female wrestlers, which rides the line between camp and stereotypes gone wild).

2 sexy white chicks in front. Obvs intended focus. Sexxxy outfits. Sexxxy hair shows they don’t really get in on the fighting action. Body language is utterly unconvincing — stance lacks tension and form, meaning that they can pose, but not fight. They’re hawt tho. And maybe there will be hair pulling? That’s also hawt.

White old dude behind the star duo is the brains/muscle/coach. He’s wearing a polo shirt, and has crossed arms. Glaring at the viewer to establish dominance and authority. Nothing better than an old white dude telling to hot chicks how to duke it out. Charlie’s Angels FTW. Bonus for porn-style ‘stache and bossy creeper vibe.

African-American woman in back left looks fierce. But let’s not feature her, because she’s black and not skinny. African-American woman in back right is even fiercer. She has legit fight skills. And dreds. Nice crotch shot, btw. Anyone else notice the white ladies upfront get to have polite sexuality? As opposed to the wild African-American woman.

Built white woman in back right looks like she has some legit skillz in the ring. She has her fists up in a decent approximation of a fight stance, and she has a fierce face (opposed to a sexxxy-fierce face). She also has her hair in braids to keep it out of her eyes when fighting, so clearly a practical choice. But let’s keep her in the back because she doesn’t conform to Hollywood norms about beautiful bodies.

- 30 -

If you thought the analysis was interesting or a fun read, I’d love it if you clicked the 👏 button and shared to help others find it! And I’d also love it if you shared your thoughts and perspectives in a comment below.

I’m not sure how other people find inspiration, but mine apparently comes in the shape of pretty, overpriced file folders and a redesigned writing area.

I’ve been dragging my feet for a couple years now on finishing my book manuscript. I’ve worked on pieces of the project, but somehow getting it all together just hasn’t quite happened. Likely because I’ve been waiting for it to happen. Kind of like I’m waiting for the pile of laundry in my bedroom to magically fold itself and disappear into drawers. That hasn’t happened yet either.

I then, of course, read a book about how to write a lot. Titled How to Write a Lot. There’s nothing academics like more than procrastinating with a good book. That is, doing more research.

The trouble is, truthfully, that I haven’t been disciplined enough about guarding my writing time. To borrow a quote from How to Write a Lot, I’ve done a right terrible job of making time for “slapping [my] fingers against the keyboard to generate paragraphs.” On top of not effectively setting writing times, I’ve done a terrible job of keeping any writing times I set. Because the project isn’t new and shiny anymore, it’s easy to get distracted. There is always something more interesting to write about. Like writing about not wanting to finish writing my manuscript.

I also haven’t done a great job of setting myself up to succeed with writing. Over the holiday break I thought a lot about why my writing has stalled out in the past few years. In addition to doing a poor job of sitting down to write, I realized I’ve done a poor job of making space to write. Literal space.

I have a small city apartment. Which my two cats graciously allow me to occupy while I feed them. Because the apartment is small, there wasn’t room for a desk. I mounted a table at bar height because having a designated eating area made me feel like an adult. Since I’m 40, I kind of figured feeling like a grownup was of some social significance. Of course, aside from a six-month period in which I dated a divorced dad who didn’t seem to understand the concept of eating dinner on the couch, I have never used the table to eat at.

The bar table is a great place to pile stuff on, however, including my art supplies. I found myself painting a lot more when I had my easel and paints set up on it. I also found myself getting a lot more headaches — even when going solvent-free, oil paints off-gas enough to give me migraines. Getting old is really a pain in the a**.

When I didn’t have space for a desk, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, since I liked writing on the couch. This hasn’t exactly worked to plan. My couch isn’t exactly a space that says “let’s do work.” It’s more of a space that says “pick up your crochet project” (I might have a small yarn problem) or “let’s find a new British murder mystery series to watch” (my small yarn problem is a great enabler of my British murder mystery addiction).

I’m a visual and design-oriented creature. If I don’t feel happy or comfortable in a space, I won’t be very productive. I’m definitely not alone in this. Donald Norman, one of my favorite authors about design, points out in Emotional Objects that people work better in visually pleasing environments. So I decided that in order to write more, I needed a space set aside for writing.

In How to Write a Lot Paul Silvia kind of makes fun of people who use needing a better writing space as an excuse for not writing. Perhaps he’s got a point. But what he outlined as a lame-duck barrier, I took as a challenge. If one of the reasons I’m not writing is that I don’t like my writing space, the solution is to redesign my writing space. Obvs, as the kids say these days.

Also, shopping is way more fun than writing, so there’s that.

I punted one of my art-deco bar chairs (I’m still please about that $20 thrift shop find) for a glass and chrome shelf so I can keep books and folders and pens and paper better organized. I bought a pretty acrylic tray and pencil holder to keep pens and post-its and very expensive paperclips with cute pompoms corralled and tidy. I bought a magnetic chalk board I can ‘pin’ things to and write notes on. And I bought several sets of expensive-but-pretty file folders to organize papers and thoughts in. I have one set of folders for each project, so I can easily identify what project they belong to. (And it was a great excuse for buying multiple sets of folders. For the design-curious…. faux bois for my design and domesticity manuscript, black and white stripes for ad hoc projects, and patterned red dots for a collaborative art book project).

Of course, now having spent several days planning and shopping, there’s now no excuse for not writing. So I suppose it’s time to get down to it. And, when I reach a writing lull, I now have sorbet-colored pompom paperclips to organize my scribblings.

How about you — how do you keep yourself on track for writing? And, perhaps more importantly, what’s your “must have” design accessory for your writing space?

If you thought the analysis was interesting or a fun read, I’d love it if you clicked the 👏 button and shared to help others find it! And I’d also love it if you shared your thoughts and perspectives in a comment below.

Procrastination pro-tip: responding to cool ideas and comments is a great way to take a break from ‘real’ writing.

Originally published at Melanie Joy McNaughton.

Detroit is a city marked by the moldering carcass of the industrial American dream. Once the site of monuments to the power of production, Detroit is now famous for the decay of historic buildings. The ruins of Detroit, captured by photographers, frame the carcass of the American dream in striking photographs. That so much of such grandeur could be allowed to crumble and decay seems almost unthinkable. It seems somehow obscene. It is not surprising, then, that images documenting this collapse have come together to form a genre of photography popularly referred to as “ruin porn.”

To take up the conversation offered by so-called ruin porn is to take up a tangled set of cultural operations. Popular images work to create and maintain oppressive stereotypes. In the case of Detroit, arresting images of crumbling architecture have created a narrative that Detroit is beyond saving. “Ruin porn” is an undeniably catchy label. And much about the circulation of images of the ruins of buildings like the Packard Motors plant evokes pornography. For example, by dramatically capturing our attention these images create a desire for more images — newer, better, more explicit. But what does it mean to label a class of photography “ruin porn”?

Labeling these images as pornographic creates implications downstream. To be pornographic, by definition, is to be obscene. Despite pornography’s broad popularity (according to Nielsen/NetRatings, pornography accounts for a third of all internet traffic), porn is not generally considered acceptable for the mainstream. If we walk out the implications for ruin photography, considering these images as “ruin porn” frames these images as dirty or debauched — not for viewing by nice people. Or at least not in public. By labeling ruin photography as a sort of pornography, these types of images are positioned not only as titillating in a naughty sort of way, but more problematically, as something to be dismissed by polite people.

The label “ruin porn” brings with it a particular kind of viewing relationship. Pornography is not typically intended as an opening for challenging cultural conversations or as a way to engage in connection with another. Pornography is a means to an end: not an entry into a relationship, but an opportunity for self-defined and self-focused pleasure. In the words of James Deen, one of the most well-known porn stars today (see profiles by ABC’s “Nightline” and GQ): “Porn has the singular purpose to sexually arouse, and once that’s achieved the product is discarded. Porn is like Coca-Cola: when it’s finished, you go out and buy another one.” Once labeled as pornography, ruin photographs become unremarkable; one small collection in a vast network of similar serialized images, closed off to engagement.

Instead of labeling ruin photographs as pornography, I wonder if such images are perhaps better understood as a form of still life. Still life paintings find visual impact by juxtaposing form and content: the heroic, elegant depiction of the unheroic domestic materials of daily life. Still life owes its strongest and most coherent lineage to 16th and 17th century Dutch painters. Dutch still lifes are primarily vanitas paintings: visual arguments against materialism.

Anchored in a booming economy that would become a sort of footprint for capitalist markets, 16th century Dutch culture found itself caught between the dichotomy of celebrating wealth and the material comforts that affluence brought, and the culturally dominant Biblical teachings warning of the temptations offered by this same prosperity. This paradox took visual form in vanitas paintings which illustrated this tension. Common vanitas elements included bread and wine (representing holy communion), hourglasses or watches (emphasizing the shortness of life), and rotting fruit, wilted flowers, or bugs (denoting death).

In a similar way, we can see in ruin photography a morality tale of the dangers of material excess, a reminder that wealth and prosperity are fleeting and fickle. Grand ruins impart a sense of sacred space. These places mark sites of majestic industry which testify to the creativity of the human spirit, the will of human imagination, the capability of the human hand. Images of historic Detroit buildings such as the Packard Plant and Michigan Central Station celebrate the power of human creativity and labor, at the same time as they warn against the excesses of empire. Ruin photography presents us with a dramatic visual — buildings that once testified to seemingly unstoppable forces of progress, now brought to nothing. These are heroic images, romantic depictions capturing the visual friction between elegant plays of light and vast swaths of destruction.

Such images make us reflect on the human condition. As photographers Marchand and Meffre state in their portfolio of Detroit ruins, “Ruins are the visible symbols and landmarks of our societies and their changes, small pieces of history in suspension . . . . making us [wonder] about the permanence of things.”

This post is adapted from an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Journal of Media Ethics on June 14, 2013, available at: http://www.tandfonline.com/10.1080/08900523.2013.784669.

Images by Mike Boening, used under Creative Commons licensing.

Originally published at Melanie Joy McNaughton.

I came across a blog post the other day with a pretty piece of typography touting: Great teachers don’t teach content, they teach people. Perhaps I was having a tough day with the school year looming like the sword of Damocles, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. It’s a lovely sentiment, but how is one meant to translate such pithy observations into tangible practices? My students are people and it’s important to connect with them. But I have undeniable and significant obligations to my students in terms of content. Students must master skills and knowledge to progress in their coursework and succeed in upper level classes.

For me, a more useful way to think about student engagement is to ask myself how I can get my students to connect with course materials in a way that makes this content meaningful to them. One way to do this is to integrate active learning principles in your classroom. In general, higher education is seeing a push towards active learning, and a move away from the “sage on the stage” lecture model of instruction.

Many people argue the first day of class is critical in establishing your class’s dynamic. I like to push this principle one step further. If one of your goals is to promote active learning, create an interactive syllabus. Your syllabus doesn’t have to be a dull list of details outlining the contract between you and your students. Your syllabus can be an important component in establishing a more dynamic interaction. The syllabus is the first class material your students will read — making it a particularly effective target for establishing interactivity as a class norm.

I like the four functions Dave Ferreira outlines as the goals for a great first day of class: 1) foster rapport, 2) communicate key elements and expectations, 3), promote desired student behaviors, 4) actively involve students. An effective interactive syllabus will operate as a microcosm of the first day, and similarly meet these goals.

The tool I use to create an interactive syllabus is Populr.me, a hosting site with templates you can easily and quickly fill out. They have a wide variety of genres, and their education section has a selection of syllabus plug and play templates. Populr.me is great because there’s no significant learning curve. I’m not affiliated with or compensated by Populr.me, I just find their product useful. If you apply for an educational account, you receive several years of free access.

You can find an example of my interactive syllabus here. What I like about the drag-and-drop options is that I can create a visually engaging first impression, and that I can organize information in ways that make it easy to understand how the course will function.

Returning to the four core goals, it’s easy to see how an interactive syllabus allows me to achieve these.

Foster rapport

I work on establishing rapport by presenting pictures of myself and my cats. There are a wide range of philosophies on what type of imagery of is appropriate — do what makes sense for you. For myself, I chose three images: one in a casual-yet-professional context, one of myself in front of a wall of graffiti, and one of my cats. I chose the casual professional image because it shows me doing adult conferencey-type things, but in a context that reads as approachable. I included the graffiti image because I study popular and visual culture, and the image connects with that. I opted to use the cat photo because revealing I have pets is a low-level disclosure that humanizes me as a person, without offering overmuch detail about my personal life.

I also include a short version of my teaching philosophy to help students understand how I approach teaching, as well as a short video I made introducing myself, so that students can get a sense of who I am as a person and an instructor.

Communicate key elements and expectations

Given that this is a syllabus, goal outlining expectations and responsibilities. Like any traditional syllabus, I include the catalog course description, course goals and learning outcomes. This information gives students a full and transparent understanding of what the course involves. In addition to providing the grading scale and point value of all assignments, I like to include a pie graph which visually illustrates the point values for course assignments.

Promote desired student behaviors

By linking out to the course policies, and including videos students can click on, I encourage students to engage in actively looking for information they need. Yes, this is pretty small stakes, but creating a syllabus that requires students to interact with information is one way to illustrate I see students as active, not passive, participants.

Actively involve students

Links to course texts and policies, the embedded videos, as well as the image slideshows, create a dynamic reading and viewing experience. These visual and interactive tools more actively engage students than dull lines of text. As with promoting student behaviors, active involvement in my syllabus is relatively low, but it’s more involvement than what’s typically on offer in standard prose syllabi.

I started building interactive syllabi for my online courses. Online classes have particular needs for encouraging engagement with students. I have now adopted the practice for all my classes. Moving syllabi online has helped simplify syllabus updates. I can make changes to one course policies document, which connects to all my courses. This is a much easier process than endless cut-and-paste fiascos. Trying to remember what course policies document I needed, and updating my syllabi every time I made a change always led to errors. Which I inevitably wouldn’t discover until the first day of class. Moving my syllabi online has helped streamline that considerably.

If you’re a particularly technologically adept sort of person, and have a WordPress site for your courses, I have developed a template which you can find here.

A couple of weeks ago a promotional email advertising GAP professional wear for women crossed my path. The ad brought to mind fake reviews for an infamous PhD Costume on Amazon. In my favorite ‘review’ for the sexxxy PhD costume the author writes: “Like all lady Ph.Ds, I frequently ask myself: ‘How could I be sexier?’ … I can now lecture in my 5 inch gold spiked heels and ‘barely there’ regalia while giving nary a thought to the male gaze and its implications on the prevalence of rape culture in our society.” In closing, the ‘reviewer’ asserts: “I’m sexy! Forget about the 7 years I spent sweating out a dissertation and engaging in innovative research!”

As a way of selling one of their latest blazers, the emailed GAP ad presented a biracial woman identified as a tenure-track professor. The ad copy said: “Get respect for your ideas and blazer choices.” Visual analysis of the ad illustrates how the typography and graphic design of the ad reinforce the sexist content of the ad’s slogan.

The copy’s typography strongly underlines that what really matters to female professional success is the outfit, not the ideas. The word “blazers” follows “ideas” in the copy, but the bolded text gives it dominance. Italicizing the “and” makes clear that women are expected to garner respect by their clothing choices.

A pair of glasses rests above the ad copy. The glasses are presumably meant to signify intelligence. But given that the glasses aren’t actually worn by the woman in the ad, their presence doesn’t suggest cleverness. It suggests in order to be considered appealing, women shouldn’t wear glasses. After all, isn’t being pretty better than being smart?

The model’s posture conforms to standard portrayals of women. Women are rarely shown in strong or authoritative stances (for example, face on), but typically in angled off-balance positions. In the top right image, the model is shown in full profile. Balanced on her back leg, the model’s hip is cocked out behind her as she runs her hand through her hair. The model smiles at the floor in shy pleasure. This is not a woman standing at the front of a classroom, communicating ideas with authority. Neither is this a woman who just finished presenting cutting-edge science at a conference, nor a woman who just presented a plan for curricular revision to her Dean. This is a woman having an “aw-shucks” moment because she’s so pleased you like her blazer.

As a tenured professor, it’s not surprising this ad campaign hit me close to home. GAP is hardly alone in their portrayal, however. Sexist advertising has a long and storied history.

But for me, what’s especially depressing about GAP’s ad, is that it’s rather true. Ideas and intelligence are less valued in female professors. For example, women are expected to do more campus service. This service is typically devalued, which means women’s academic careers advance less rapidly and less successfully. In a state of affairs I’m sure surprises no-one, female professors are significantly underrepresented in the upper ranks (full professor), and make less than male colleagues.

Discrimination isn’t restricted to pay and promotion. It also shows up in the classroom. Student teaching evaluations consistently reflect sexist stereotypes. As a feisty professor with bold glasses and strong expectations, early in my career I faced pushback from students. Pushback not experienced by male colleagues with similar policies. The problem? I was too intimidating. When I switched to wearing pink dresses (thank god for H&M’s pink and orange streak a few years ago), students found me more relatable, because my image more successfully sold “girl.” As we all know, “girl” and “intimidating” are mutually incompatible. Signalling gender-specific approachability translated to stronger evaluations and a more positive classroom experience.

I often relate this example in class discussions of culture and representation and power. It serves as a good teaching moment, and we can laugh at the silliness of pink dresses at the same time as we consider the effects of cultural expectations. The anecdote typically opens the door for a moving and thoughtful discussion on students’ experiences with stereotypes and how they impact students’ academic, personal, and professional lives.

Professors weren’t the only professionals highlighted in this GAP campaign, however. Among a start-up partner and a small business owner, GAP presented a financial adviser. Who just happened to be Asian — you know, because Asians are so good with math. The financial adviser is charmingly attired in a sleeveless orange blouse with bohemian-inspired stitching, and wide-legged khaki trousers. The bottom left image is a discordant cut-out. It’s intended to highlight the stitching in closer detail, but it is awkwardly done. More problematic than a graphic design faux pas, the cropping is a trope of sexist imagery in which women are displayed for their parts and not person-hood.

Not to be outdone by academe, the financial adviser also depends on snappy dressing for professional worth. The ad copy for this role reads: “A bright pop for when looking professional is your business.” The phrase “bright pop” is emphasized in bold; “is” is emphasized in italics. The typography in this ad similarly underlines that physical appearance matters more than skill or competence. Having a deep understanding of financial markets and investing isn’t her business. Neither is it important she have a savvy understanding of long-term economic trends and how best to maximize retirement savings. The italicized “is” makes clear this financial adviser’s looks are her professional mandate. What matters is that she can look pretty behind a desk. Or on top of one, as the case may be.

I’m not opposed to fashion (I have a few favorite blazers in my closet). Nor am I ignorant of the role clothing plays in communicating professional and personal identities. It wouldn’t have been hard, however, for GAP to highlight their clothing and affirm women as smart and competent. For instance, the ad copy on the tenure-track professor could have read: “Wear a blazer as commanding as your ideas.” In a similar vein, the copy for the financial adviser might have stated: “Wear a pop of color as bright as your ideas.”

Although 30% of full professors in 2013 were women, it’s better than the 20-something percent who were full professors in 2003. It’s progress, and I’ll take it. But I long for a time when cultural illustrations for professionalism in the academic workplace go beyond suggesting I become a TPILF (Tenure-Track Professor I’d Like to F@*%).