Metanoia
“an ongoing series of transformations each one of which alters the predicates of being.”
Someone, No One: An Essay on Individuality. Kenelm Burridge

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Metanoia
“an ongoing series of transformations each one of which alters the predicates of being.”
Someone, No One: An Essay on Individuality. Kenelm Burridge
Simply put: in the conduct of our re-search, we meet people. We talk with them, we ask them questions, we listen to their stories and we watch what they do. In so far as we are deemed competent and capable, we join in. There is nothing particularly special or unusual about this: it is, after all, what people do all the time when they encounter one another. What, then, could possibly distinguish an encounter that is ethnographic from one that is not? Here you are in what you imagine to be the field (of which more below). You tell people that you have come to learn from them. You are perhaps hoping that they will teach you some of their practical skills, or that they will explain what they think about things. You try very hard to remember what you have observed, or what people have told you, and lest you forget, you write it all down in fieldnotes as soon as the opportunity arises. Could it be the eagerness to learn, the strenuous memory-work, or perhaps the subsequent writing of notes, that lends an ethno-graphic inflection to your encounters with others? The answer is no. For what we could call “ethnographicness” is not intrinsic to the encounters themselves; it is rather a judgment that is cast upon them through a retrospective conversion of the learning, remembering and note-taking which they call forth into pretexts for something else altogether. This ulterior purpose, con-cealed from the people whom you covertly register as informants, is documentary. It is this that turns your experience, your memory and your notes into material—sometimes spun quasi-scientifically as “data”—upon which you subsequently hope to draw in the project of offering an account. The risks of double-crossing entailed in this ethnographizing of encounters, and the ethical dilemmas consequent upon them, are well known and much discussed. No one could accuse anthropologists of turning a blind eye to them. This is not where the fault lies. It lies rather in a temporal distortion that contrives to render the aftermath of our meetings with people as their anterior condition. Johannes Fabian (1983: 37), alluding to the same distortion, speaks of the “schizochronic tendencies of emerging anthropology.” In effect, to cast encounters as ethnographic is to consign the incipient—the about-to-happen in unfolding relationships—to the temporal past of the already over. It is as though, on meeting others face-to-face, one’s back was already turned to them. This is to leave behind those who, in the moment of encounter, stand before. Two-faced indeed!
Tim ingold, ‘That’s enough about Ethnography’ 2014 HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 4 (1): 383
my great uncle Bob is exactly what you’d expect from an australian farmer. he’s approximately 65 years old and he’s a cattle farmer on a station (a station is a fuck off huge ranch, basically, it’s a couple thousand acres) and he’s this beanpole of a man who looks like he’s spent his entire life outside because, well, he has. he also drives this ancient beat-up yellow ute which is more rust than car at this point and was made in approximately 1980. it’s old.
anyway he was driving to the far end of the station the other day and an emu ran out in front of his car and he hit it, only it didn’t die, it came flying through the windshield, still alive and mostly unharmed. so there’s my uncle and this emu which is now sitting in the front seat of his car and understandably the emu is pretty pissed off and the first thought that goes through Bob’s head is “oh shit it’s going to start kicking me” so he figures the best way to stop it doing that is to punch it in the face and that is the story of how my uncle got in a fistfight with an emu.
this is the most australian thing i’ve ever read. this is the essence of australia
my dad threw an emu over a fence twice
I found this on my main tumblr and thought it was totally relevant. By the by, I’m terrified of emus.
There was one (emergency truck bay) in qld that was badly set up and everyone who saw it wanted it changed and they kept just putting humps in it saying it would slow people down. There was a news crew doing a story on how bad it is and while they were filming, a truck went into it and the guy went through his windscreen, even through his seatbelt. The sound guy and the reporter ran over and helped him up, walked him over and sat him just on the edge where the camera was. The camera was still going and they were saying "THIS is how bad it is" and not 10 seconds later another truck came in and hit that truck, and that guy was dead. After that they stopped putting humps through it - showed how damage can be done when it shouldn't have done anything at all.
Ben, on gravel truck stop lanes. (He was also laughing at me because when I was 17 and learning to drive, people told me if you drove a car in there, the car would sink and no one would find you).
This week has been interesting.
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An introduction to my proposal
It could be argued that storytelling is the most common form of communicating info ratio from one person to another. And storytelling doesn't have to be an oral or written phenomenon; stories are given and received in many forms. The very first stories were told in pictures, songs and dances; historically, books were created, then film, then digital media. Post-modern story-telling incorporates and exceeds these genres. Storytelling is not a new thing, but anthropologists are using it I new ways. Insert examples of story ethnography including auto ethnography, photo voice. Storytelling within a culture is used to encourage cultural norms, organise and reassess knowledge and warn against deviancy. In my research on a small cattle station in Keralup, WA, storytelling is used as a form of entertainment and a way to pass the time or even brag, but more importantly is it used to impart lessons on what to do and what not to do when working with cattle. Rather than explicit instruction, people working on the farm tell stories about times things went wrong in order to teach new workers what not to do, and about times thing went right to encourage them to take certain actions.
This is Norbert. Isn’t he the most beautiful, majestic creature you’ve ever seen?