From the 1st February, Geography with Dan takes a 'Behind-the-Scenes' look at Dan's dissertation project, from its evolution all the way to its submission. With photographs, videos and Dan's personal anecdotes.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
Wednesday, 6 January 2016
Dan features on Chicago's Red Bar Radio show
One of the last interviews I did in 2015 was a special one for TvGeog; the channel's debut in America. It was great to be guest on Chicago's Red Bar Radio and you can watch the interview below.
Saturday, 2 January 2016
Dan features on Channel 4 show 'RudeTube'
Kicking off 2016, I had the fantastic privilege to be featured on the Channel 4 show RudeTube presented by Alex Zane. If you haven't watched it before, it's a show that picks out some of the videos going viral across YouTube.
Click here to watch
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Sunday, 26 October 2014
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
Earth: Our Home. Our Future.
Daniel recently gave a speech at a TEDx Conference. Here's a transcript from the event; an essay entitled: 'Earth: Our Home. Our Future'.
‘There is nothing permanent except change’.
The words of the Greek philosopher Heraclitus from 500BC. Six words, articulated from the dusty tracks
of ancient Ephesus in Turkey, but speak volumes about an entire planet over
2000 years later.
We live in a world of such unprecedented dynamism. As we sit
still, Planet Earth is spinning 67,000 miles an hour in the cosmos. This maybe some
speed, but no speedometer could compute neither the pace of human development
nor the velocity of our technological progress. The texture of our lives is
continuously being dissolved and recomposed around us. We may view life in three
dimensions, but a fourth element is always present. The element of change,
exponentially catalysed around us, is fundamentally part of what it means to be
human.
As a geographer, I am continuously asked what the nature of
my discipline is. What does Geography
mean? What does Earth mean? How inextricably complex the question remains, and
yet, could it be that the planet changes so much that we cannot accurately
assert a definition to its study? After all, Geography is one such discipline
where the force of change is a central facet in the way we understand how the
world operates.
This is not a world in stasis. From the Stone Age to the
Bronze Age, from the Iron Age to the Medieval Period, perhaps what gives this
world meaning is that of its capacity for change. The last century has
witnessed an inexorable rate of change. Our digital revolution has bred, and
continues to breed, a world of interconnection; a world where the Euclidian
dimensions of distance seems to matter less and less. We have profoundly
transformed the nature of the human experience, bringing distant others closer
together, in a community of virtual connection. No doubt the world has become
transfigured beyond the point of return; perhaps it is this that now re-defines what it means to be in existence on Earth.
Whilst Human Geographers seek to comprehend the nature of
our globalisation, down the other end of the department corridor is a
congregation of Physical Geographers who are studying another change. A
critical issue; a demanding contemporary crisis; a quandary for us all. That of
Climate Change. Shadowing the positivity of our digitalisation and
technological innovation, the tentacles of Global Warming are encroaching part
of what it means to be living on Planet Earth in the 21st century.
In short, after so many thousands of years of changing- after centuries of
fine-tuning our traditions and methods- we have still not reached utopia.
Global Interconnection and Global Warming. There is a great
dichotomy here; the former reflects on man’s faculty over the world, our
ceaseless endeavour for human betterment, whilst the latter reminds us that we
are still at the mercy of Mother Nature. We have the means by which to travel
the world, and although we might fly, a footprint mutilates the globe- a Carbon
Footprint. Similarly, the mobile phone has almost become part of our own
anatomy-shamefully, there always seems to be one in my hand- but it is a device
which depletes our non-renewable resources.
Despite the clear associations between our simultaneity and
the pressing matter of climate change, however, the academic establishment
continues to atomise these discourses. Although it could be argued that Global
Warming seeps into all of the aspects of what is a fractured discipline; global
interconnection is clearly a criterion for a Human Geographer’s agenda. I think
that this, most significantly of all, is where the error lies. The most
effective catalyst for changing the course of Global Warming would be to solder
these two discourses. To retard the development of climate change, we should be
searching for a more profound resolution.
I propose a unique perspective; a unique resolution to Climate Change.
After all, the conventional approaches do not seem to be
effective catalysts for change. Using public transport, car sharing, recycling,
purchasing eco-friendly light-bulbs; these are small scale adjustments we make
in our daily lives to hinder the warming of our world. But as Paul Stern, from
the National Research Council once wrote, “the environmental impact of any
individual’s personal behaviour is small.
Such individual behaviours have environmentally significant impact only
in the aggregate, when many people independently do the same things.”
But why, if these grass-root approaches are so small in
scale, aren’t they adopted by enough people in which to make them, as Stern
put, “environmentally significant”? Stern goes on to hypothesise possible
reasons; that “environmental impact has largely been a by-product of human
desires” – such as comfort, enjoyment, power, status, and mobility. I would go
further.
The split with nature is at the heart of an environmental
crisis. My most cardinal point would be to state that I think a wave of
technological innovation, interconnection and the rise of the internet culture,
has disconnected humans from the world. By inhabiting a cyber-fuelled, virtual
reality, we have lost the values we once upheld for nature. In short, the human
race has disconnected with the landscape, and connected with the Wi-Fi instead.
The green and pleasant land seems to be no longer a place
which provokes awe and wonder, but instead, exasperation due to their poor
network signals. The landscape, once encapsulated in paintings and poems, is
relegated to the background of a ‘selfie’. As the public domain get access to
satellite maps, the conception of true wilderness is a questionable notion; the
ability to set out and enjoy pure exploration is less likely in the age of navigation
systems.
Influential ecologist Aldo Leopold believes we abuse the
land because we regard it as a “commodity belonging to us” not one “to which we
belong”. If we are to effectively catalyse a hindrance to Global Warming,
approaching those profound questions of our connectedness to nature is
paramount.
Addressing Global Warming very rarely goes as far as to
consider these rather abstract points, but I would argue that encouraging the
public to seek a more ecologically friendly way of life will yield little
impact unless the public feel a moral obligation to protect their own planet. To
use the words of Mayer and Frantz: “unless they feel a sense of kinship with
it; unless they view themselves as belonging to the natural world and view
their welfare as related to the welfare of the Earth.”
Our connectedness to nature is something that has been
studied in other disciplines. According to health experts, spending leisure
time in natural environments is beneficial for human health and well-being. I
would go on to suggest that an individual’s well-being is just one of the many
factors which influences them to protect the world in which they inhabit.
This is not a call to demolish the platforms of
communication we have set up. Indeed, the internet is a valuable asset in
delivering a message about the global problems we share. What I would assert is
that we re-ignite our zest for exploration; that we re-ignite our zeal for
discovery; that we make Planet Earth a compelling environment for young people
to discover, rather than let them become entangled within the addictive web of
the social network, for in that web, their connection with true nature can
never be fostered.
Can this work? Can such a profound shift in our emotional
affinity toward nature truly be an effective catalyst? It’s a fresh, new angle,
and requires much more research. But I would agree with Mayer and Frantz that
feeling connected to nature and eco-friendly acts have a bi-directional
relationship. Feeling connected to the landscape will encourage a certain act
of stewardship for it, and in turn, proliferate their connection with nature.
This bi-directional relationship has been studied, in some
senses, only this year. In a paper published this summer, a group of interviewed
farmers felt that if they are more capable of conserving nature on their farm,
the more they see themselves as connected to nature. In turn, the more they feel
connected to nature, the more likely they are to commit to conservation.
I conclude with the wisdom of Henry Thoreau and in some ways
it encapsulates what I believe to be my own philosophy on the world. “This
curious world we inhabit is more wonderful than convenient; more beautiful than
it is useful; it is more to be admired and enjoyed than used.”
Perhaps, more than ever, we need to stop living on the planet, and start living with it.
Sunday, 19 October 2014
THE TRAIL CONTINUES...
Dan's BRAND NEW SERIES 'On the Trail' is taking him through the wonderful landscapes of Norfolk.
Having reached the Norfolk-Suffolk border in the previous programme, join Dan as he weaves himself back up through the Norfolk countryside along the Boudicca Way, finally reaching the city of Norwich.
WATCH PROGRAMME 9 BELOW
Released: 19th October 2014
WATCH THE REST OF THE SERIES BY CLICKING HERE
Thursday, 2 October 2014
DANIEL TO SPEAK AT TEDx CONFERENCE
On the 18th October, the Royal Holloway (University of London) will host a TEDx conference, supporting innovation, critical thinking and leadership for meaningful change.
TEDx CONFERENCE- LIVE FROM THE ROYAL HOLLOWAY
SOLD OUT BUY YOUR TICKET HERE SOLD OUT
All tickets have been sold. However, the event will be streaming live throughout the day and you can watch Dan and the other speakers right here on Geography with Dan.
Daniel has been selected to speak at this very prestigious event. With the theme of the conference being 'Catalysts', Daniel will speak on behalf of the Geographical Sciences in suggesting a unique perspective on the way we tackle contemporary issues such as Global Warming.
Alongside Daniel is a line-up of very high profile speakers. Already confirmed are:
Leon McCarron- a Northern Irish film-maker and writer, who has appeared on TV in over 60 countries worldwide.
Maja Szymczyk- a multilingual singer, actress and presenter who has performed with some of the best musicians around the world, even singing for Princes.
Edward Heywood- Co-founder of 'Urban Cloud', he has raised over £150k in seed capital, orchestrated 10 strategic partnerships, and took part in Founders Space accelerator in Silicon Valley.
Kate Russell- Reporter and Author, appearing on BBC technology programme 'Click' and involved in UK and Global Policy meetings to shape the way the internet is governed.
Marco Poletto- Leads the BIO Urban Design Research Cluster and is the Unit Master at the Architectural Association in London with projects exhibited throughout the world.
Marko Pajevic- Senior Lecturer at the School for Modern Languages, Literatures and Cultures at the Royal Holloway, currently developing an international research network on poetics and thinking language.
Tracey Brown- Director of Sense about Science, reviews policy both in the UK and worldwide. Led the award winning campaigns, and has been named as one of the 10 leading scientists in policy making by the Science Council.
Paul Smith- Appeared on stage over 1000 times around the world as a recording artist, writer and arranger. Performed at Mariinksy Theatre in Russia, National Centre of Performing Arts in Beijing, and Opera City in Tokyo.
Jeffrey DeMarco- Forensic psychologist , criminological and legal researcher who works nationally and internationally with governments. Currently working with the European Commission in preventing computer mediated crimes against children.
Salman Al Najem- Painter with a BA in Interior Design from the University of the Arts' London College of Communication.
Katy Kann- Russian Artist. Featured in the World's Greatest Erotic Art of Today, selected as 'Best of Show' by the Colors of Humanities Art Gallery and is currently studying Architecture at the University of Manchester.
Manos Tsakiris- Professor of Psychology at Royal Holloway, with research funded by the Volkswagen Foundation and the European Research Council.
Daniela de Rosa- Produced and conducted radio programmes about travel ad lifestyle for Italy, and writes travelling guides for women.
TED is a non-profit organization devoted to Ideas Worth Spreading. Started as a four-day conference in California 25 years ago, TED has grown to support those world-changing ideas with multiple initiatives. The annual TED Conference invites the world's leading thinkers and doers to speak for 18 minutes. TED speakers have included Bill Gates, Al Gore, Jane Goodall, Sir Richard Branson, and former UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown.
Friday, 19 September 2014
TRAVEL WRITING FINDS ITS WAY TO 'FOLIO'
Some of Dan's recent travel writing has been published by the 'up and coming' magazine Folio. It's a brand new magazine that exhibits the work of students from the Royal Holloway, University of London.
Read Dan's entry by clicking here!
Sunday, 17 August 2014
EXCLUSIVE NEW SERIES RELEASED
ON THE TRAIL
Brand New Series for 2014
PROGRAMME 9- 19th October 2014
Having reached the Norfolk-Suffolk border in the previous programme, join Dan as he weaves himself back up through the Norfolk countryside along the Boudicca Way, finally reaching the city of Norwich.
Previous Episodes in the Series
PROGRAMME 1- 24th August 2014
In the launch of his biggest series yet, join Daniel Evans in the first of a 10-part series that takes him the length and breadth of Norfolk. In this programme, he walks the Norfolk Coast Path.
PROGRAMME 2- 31st August 2014
In the second part of his biggest series yet, join Daniel Evans as he continues exploring his home county of Norfolk. This week he is walking the Paston Way, passing through some idyllic villages, unspoilt countryside and dramatic coastlines.
PROGRAMME 3- 7th September 2014
In this, the third part of the series, join Daniel Evans as he continues his walk through his home county of Norfolk, exploring the landscape, towns and villages along the way.
PROGRAMME 4- 14th September 2014
Daniel continues his epic walk through Norfolk, stopping at the unique selection of villages and towns and ambling through a diversity of landscapes.
PROGRAMME 5- 21st September 2014
Dan is halfway through his 230 mile walk through Norfolk. In this programme, join him a he explores more of what the county has to offer. From spellbinding landscapes, to picturesque villages, Daniel shows that there is always something to see, on any trail.
PROGRAMME 6- 28th September 2014
Daniel continues his mammoth walk around the county of Norfolk, exploring some of its popular sights and hidden secrets. From a diverse range of flora and fauna to picturesque architecture and scenery, he shows that the 'Nar Valley' Way offers something for everyone who walks it.
PROGRAMME 7- 5th October 2014
Daniel continues his epic walk around Norfolk. This week he is on the Peddars Way, soaking up the tranquillity of the countryside and exploring its diverse range of flora and fauna.
PROGRAMME 8- 12th October 2014
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
BRAND NEW SERIES: On the Trail- MINI TRAILERS
This week, Dan releases FIVE mini-trailers for his new series!
A Brand New Series for Geography with Dan launches on Sunday 24th August. Do check out Dan's online TV Channel TvGeog on YouTube for more trailers and information.
Sunday, 3 August 2014
EXCLUSIVE- BRAND NEW SERIES TRAILER
Dan's Brand New Series 'On the Trail' is out on 24th August- check out the very latest trailer!
Monday, 28 July 2014
Thursday, 24 July 2014
Sunday, 20 July 2014
Tuesday, 8 July 2014
Sunday, 22 June 2014
'Colouring in-between the lines'- Part 5: 'Brown' Earth
'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....
In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.
In this the final part of the series, he focuses on all things Brown and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.
***
I hope, if anything, this series has enlightened those who have for so many years considered the subject of Geography to merely bobble up and down on the surface of philosophical thought and instead realise that it is an active study immersed with deep meanings and complex ideas. For those who regard Geography to be nothing more than simply being able to locate the nearest tube station or a study where flags are learned by rote, it is because we live in a world of stereotypes. We sketch and fix our expectations upon everything. Geography has always had a stereotyped reputation of being slightly inferior to others, but perhaps this requirement to stereotype- our compulsion to label and to categorise- is how we make meaning of the planet we live on. In other words, perhaps Geography is stereotyping the planet.
Preferably, one might replace 'stereotyping' with
'constructing meaning'. After all, we do not live in a world of colour; colour is just one of the tools that we
use to construct meaning about the planet. If we consider, for example, the
colour of brown and items associated with that colour, we may list a few
commonalities between them. 'Rustic', 'natural', 'earthy' to name but a few,
and yet it is clear from other editions in this series, that other colours also
represent a certain naturalness. The greenness of the rainforests, the yellowness
of a field of rapeseed, the apparent blueness of our oceans; they all radiate a
certain degree of organic natural beauty, and yet how odd it would be if soil
were to be yellow, or blue or green. Here we stumble upon the complexities of
the human mind.
I'm currently staring at all of the brown-coloured objects
in my office. The desk I am sitting at, my little wooden
keepsake box, the cupboard doors; everything that is brown seems to share a
common life history. That is, these items have been constructed from entities
that had previously lived, entities that we sacrificed for our own human comfort.
Living trees, now unrecognisable, after hard labour and craftsmanship. It is peculiar,
therefore, that we associate brown with life
and naturalness when in reality,
many of the brown objects in our households and workplaces are indeed dead
wood.
There's yet another complexity regarding brown, or the sense
of brownness in our lives and that is the reinforced idea that brown is a
boring colour, and associated brown entities are similarly quite dull. Take
soil, for an example. A Pedologist's dream, but for many of us, it inspires
fatigue. But in consideration, how can soil be boring? It may not boast
exhilaration nor does it provoke thrill, but it is perhaps the most important
ingredient on Earth. Let us consider the endless array of activities and
articles that require soil for their function or origin. The World Cup is
greatly reliant on grass, but even grass is dependent on that fundamental unit
of soil. Our furniture may be wooden, but it is wood carved up from trees which
were once extensively entrenched within the soil. In fact, trees themselves are
paramount for the oxygen we inhale, and are similarly essential in extracting
the Carbon Dioxide waste product we exhale, but so often forgotten is the elemental
necessity of the soil. Suddenly, brown earthy soil doesn't sound so dull and substandard.
Or perhaps it still does.
Perhaps soil will never capture our imagination, despite the
fact it is necessary for our own existence. Quite possibly it is down to our
capitalist attitudes towards life; if it produces an income, if it has material
qualities, then it can arouse our curiosity and feed some interest into our
lives. Soil has never sold records, it has never played football, it has never
looked good on the front cover of any magazine (bar, Gardener's World, perhaps)
and as a consequence, it has never been of substantial interest to us.
That maybe a small but subtle clue as to why Geography
receives such poor publicity; the fact that, on the surface, it doesn't seem to
do anything for us. It doesn't appear
to have impact upon our daily lives; the kind of influences that Physics,
Chemistry and Biology seem to boast. However, I would argue that the fault is
entirely our own. We have exchanged our capacity for deep thought with the
internet, ironically the very medium I am presenting this to you now. We have traded
self contemplation with technological innovation. Associating the colours of
our world with deep meanings is something, perhaps, that doesn't instinctively
emerge in our conscience primarily because it isn't something that we as a
generation, slaves to our cars and iPods, are not programmed to immediately
consider.
So the next time you take the dog for the walk, or drive to
work, take a minute to contemplate just how wonderfully colourful the world
really is. It may not add any speed to your journey, but it may uplift you to
know that you're part of it; you're in it.
This is our home.
Sunday, 15 June 2014
'Colouring in-between the lines'- Part 4: 'Yellow' Earth
'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....
In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.
This week, he focuses on all things Yellow and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.
***
***
This series over the last few weeks has sought to convince
those who consider Geography to be 'that subject where you learn about cities
and places', that it is instead, deeply multifaceted. For too long, Geography
has been seen as a subject that takes
place within the confines of the classroom; that its content is constructed
around the building blocks of the national curriculum. I have argued in the
past, and will persist here that Geography should not be treated as an academic
discipline, but a subconscious approach to the planet in which we inhabit; the
way in which humans engage with the world in their everyday lives. Our identities are composed in and as a result of
different places; the subtle choices we make in terms of the way we perform
ourselves all have distinct relationships back to our position in the world.
Geography, therefore, is that fluid matrix in between other subjects; the
relations between History and Chemistry, or between Psychology and Art can be
explained through a geographical methodology.
It's a subject that at the very least stretches beyond
cartography: the construction of maps. We study the world everyday; when we
travel to work, when we gaze out of the office window, on our way back home.
Parked in a rush hour can excite the imagination; we begin to think about a
forthcoming holiday or one just past. We are edging a few inches a minute along
a seemingly incessant motorway, but in our imagination, we are someplace else.
Sometimes, and perhaps the gift of the human mind, is the fact that we can
imagine a place in the finest of detail, even if we have never physically been
there. Our emotions, thoughts and feelings- our human imagination- form a
substantial element in our understanding of our planet.
An appreciation of colour within our world is, similarly,
one that you'll never find within a geography textbook, but at the same time,
so emphatically important in the way we shape meanings about the planet on
which we live. Certain colours, such as those already discussed in this series,
are more obviously geographical; green and blue, perhaps, fall into this
category. Other colours such as red are less palpable, but still uphold symbology
within the world; we still apply meanings to them. Most of us would admit to
having a favourite colour; a tint we would select, if ever one had to be saved.
For me, it's yellow. There's nothing distinctly geographical about my love for
the colour yellow; it's a vibrant colour, almost electric in its luminosity and
has the amazing capacity to transform my mood from a morose despondency to one
of bliss and contentment. In some ways, however, it's entirely geographical.
The fact that a certain place, landscape or landmark, can transform someone's
emotions around is testament to the effect that the planet can have on us.
Perhaps why I prefer yellow so much is the scarcity of the
colour in our landscape. It isn't one that you naturally pass everyday; it
isn't as universally widespread as, perhaps, green is. (Another name for a
village green is a common after all).
The infrequency of yellow in our lives keeps it a refreshing shade and
continues to provoke a bout of delight within me, whenever I catch sight of it.
From where I grew up- the Norfolk countryside- patches of
the landscape are annually knitted with a strong yellow, when farmers grow
rapeseed. Every so often, the monotonous green that flourishes so much through
our county's farmland, is punctuated by an arresting glow of yellow; it's
flamboyancy almost yelling out at you. (No wonder, because after all: half of
the word 'yellow' is 'yell'). However
pulsating a field of yellow is to the passer-by, there's a simultaneous
serenity enwrapped within. If you take a deckchair and park yourself beside a
field of Rapeseed, you'll discover that although the colour is arresting, the
field symbolises one of the last areas of tranquillity; a site not yet
conquered by the hand of man. An area yet to be vanquished by the property
developer. Compared to any urban jungle, this is one of the final segments of
our country's jigsaw where one can still find equanimity; one of the few spots
to soak up stillness.
If you have ever been lucky enough to grow Daffodils in your
garden, you will equally know about how the arrival of those delicate yellow
petals in Spring gives off a sense of anticipation for the year ahead. The
blossoming of Daffs' mark a conclusion in what always seems an endless winter.
In this way, yellow inspires a slightly different dish of emotions inside
us; yellow breathes prospect and
optimism into us, especially when the mornings are still damp and ominous. Note
with me how a colour such as yellow within our landscape can even oppress the
seasons; the early stages of Spring maybe relatively dull, but combating such a
mood is the vivid zing of yellowness.
For many of us, however (and particularly at present),
yellowness manifests itself in something more alluring than a bed of Daffs' or
a field of Rapeseed. Indeed, for millions of us, the promise of yellow sands
and warm transparent waters is something that draws us to places far away. As attractive and botanically interesting
pebble-based beaches can sometimes prove to be, there's just that element
missing from them; that critical yellowness which denotes a sandy beach and
grants families with an infinite array of possibles when it comes to beach
activities. From the classic sandcastle modelling, to Frisbee and other
sport-related pursuits exercised across the bounty of beaches around the globe,
our coastline environment is extremely important for the economy. Perhaps, the
elemental placing of golden/yellow sands and turquoise/blue waters together is
the secret to the beach's popularity. Here, however, yellow isn't about the anticipation
necessarily which transpires from the Daffodils, neither is it a source of
surprise like the Rapeseed. The yellowness, alternatively, that positively
oozes from our sandy beaches brings together a whole cauldron of sentiments.
For me, the beach reminds me of holidays from yesteryear, but also of summers
yet to come. It also indicates a place of unreserved relaxation; a space of
contemplation. A paradise, I suppose. There's little in the way of questions,
therefore, why yellow seems to be my number one colour.
Sunday, 8 June 2014
'Colouring In-Between the Lines'- Part 3: 'Blue' Earth
'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....
In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.
This week, he focuses on all things Blue and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.
***
It is increasingly becoming apparent that we are living in a
state of almighty flux. Aside from the clear technological innovation, and an
augmentation in our viral and virtual communication, there is a notion that we
as a species are becoming busier. If the political project of the late 20th
century was one of ephermeralisation- the goal of achieving more with less-
then the century in which we live is almost certainly about interconnecting
ourselves with distanciated others, around the world. It's about launching
ourselves into a virtual cyberspace; our tweets and status updates entangled
within the manageable chaos we choose to call the 'internet'. Nearly all of us
everyday depart the structure and security of this Earth to lose ourselves
within the dizzy heights (and breadths) of the 'world wide web'; indeed, what I
am noticing is that our devotion towards Facebook
and Twitter symbolises an escape; a
chance to flee this world of ours to attend one more extraordinary.
Children from a troublingly early age these days are
becoming vacuumed from Earth to take their place in this apparently more
attractive virtual world, so it's no wonder why we are simultaneously becoming
disengaged from Earth's natural beauty; no surprise why we have unleashed our
grasp on our planet. A magpie's tweets, compared to those from our idol
celebrities, are not worth the time of day. We succumb to the entrancing powers
of social media, allured by its diversity, enticed by its ability, captivated
by its design. As a nation, perhaps we have forgotten this wonderful planet
that we all share.
The unsettling truth of it all is the fact that social media
is about the largest exhibit of artificiality we have; a world (or perhaps a universe)
apart from the natural beauty, the natural splendour and the untamed bounty
of our rural nation. Quite possibly, the most beguiling verity is the fact that
man has not got the answer to some of the most intriguing questions about this
Earth and its process, so why therefore do we choose to ignore them and shift
the core of our focus towards our message box; our 'profile page'; our
'notifications'?
However, it could be argued that this clear disregard for
the planet in which we live- our burning desire to go someplace else- is not a
recent item on our agenda as human beings. Consider, for example, the Apollo missions
of the 1960s; our urgency in sending man to the Moon, and yet it could be
argued that one of the greatest successes of any space mission is the way in
which such forced distancing from the Earth can make us appreciate it more; can
make us rekindle our love of it. When we are diverged from something it can, to
some extent, renew our vows and revive our passion for it. In short, home
sickness.
It was during that space mission, that we not only achieved
images of the Moon, but some of Earth too; indeed, one very iconic photo that
has manifest itself across the globe since. Labelled the 'Blue Marble', it's a
photograph that stirs the emotions, particularly because of its seemingly
static nature. There it is. There is our home afloat in the cosmos, drifting on
its voyage through space. Since then- since the production of the 'Blue
Marble'- I think we have witnessed a dramatic transformation in the way that we
represent the planet. If social media takes advantage of anything, it is the
way that countries across the world are becoming more concomitant. In a world
that is forever changing, there is an air of constancy; the tentacles of our
simultaneity are physically binding and keeping the Earth 'marble-like'.
I think it's no surprise, therefore, that we used the label
'marble'; a representation of Earth's impenetrable nature, even in times of
planetary-scale changes. Perhaps, it's even more interesting to see that colour
is also incorporated into it. In an age of industrialisation, we have
selflessly chosen to describe it by something natural; the pure and unprocessed
hue of blue which, after all, covers three-quarters of Earth in the form of our
seas and oceans.
Having said this, there is a major inaccuracy with calling
this the 'Blue Planet'. After all, if you take a cup, walk to your nearest
ocean (some of you might need to drive) and fill it with water, you will
clearly observe that the ocean is not blue at all. And yet, 75% of Earth we
consider being blue. As a nation of sunbathers, beach fanatics and tan-wannabes,
we seek out and travel hundreds of miles for blue sky, and yet never consider
the fact that the sky is a void, unable to be tinted.
Just like the name 'Blue Marble', we see blueness in our seas and skies, or perhaps more accurately put,
we see the lack of any other colour from these entities. But so accentuated the
idea of blue sky is in our society, that I think some of us sometimes forget
that there is nothing blue at all about our atmosphere. It is, like so many
things, one of those representations of the planet, excessively used and now
drilled into the very core of our understanding. If you don't believe me,
consider for a minute what the world would look like if our oceans could be seen in their actual translucent
property. How eerie a sight would be; how unnatural?
And still our misperceptions- tragic misunderstandings about
our own home- are forever exposed. Those who consider the sky to be blue would
quite likely describe a glacial environment 'white'. A monotonous whiteness
that sweeps across in panoramic fashion, and yet glaciers rarely appear white,
but blue. As snow is compressed into the glacial ice, so air bubbles are
trapped and squeezed out. Just like the ocean, the presence of blueness is down
to the Oxygen-Hydrogen bond in the water that absorbs light; in other words,
glaciers appear blue, but are in
reality clear. After all, how many times have you seen blue ice cubes served in
drinks at your local pub? Having de-mystified the blueness, it would be equally
inaccurate to say glaciers were white. Water is not white, so ice can't be
either.
If the world is essentially not blue, then why the 'Blue Marble’?
Why submit to such an inaccuracy? Perhaps it comes down to our detachment away
from the Earth. So distanced we are in a world of virtual reality, that we only
see the Earth, instead of understanding it. Interestingly enough, social media is often formatted upon a blue background, as
scientists have concluded that we are likely to retain attention to something
that is blue. If only we had more time for the Blue Marble too? Perhaps if we
called it ‘hashtag Marble’ instead?
Sunday, 1 June 2014
'Colouring in between the lines'- Part 2: 'Red' Earth
'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....
In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.
This week, he focuses on all things Red and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.
***
***
There's a bright, yet dispiriting light intermittently flashing on my computer mouse beside me, reminding me that its days of service for me are limited. A similar warning symbol is displayed on my digital camera screen too; a testament, if nothing else, at how appalling I am at monitoring battery life. At least I can rely on the warning lights to alert me as to when I should find my chargers. Those red warning lights.
"Red light spells danger..." as Billy Ocean
famously sang, although I'm unsure if I agree. After all, let us consider the
red lights that confront us on Planet Earth. The red lights which forewarn
battery death do not necessarily cause danger; quite the opposite in fact. They
alert us that some action is required of us to replace the said batteries or,
in my case, re-charge them. The top bulb on a set of traffic lights or a car's
rear breaking lights are there for reasons of safety and security rather than
to implant a sense of inevitable doom into our lives. The speckles of red
lights that cluster on the tops of buildings are of great use to pilots and the
like; they don't spell insurmountable peril, but rather prevent it.
There is, however, a case to be made that red and redness
infuses a sense of completion, expiration and extremity. The end to a battery's
life; the cessation to a stretch of driving; the very tip of a building;
maximum speed on a speedometer; a red card in a football match. It's
fascinating to consider that these principals- the fundamental idea of red
denoting termination and extremity- is almost instinctive to us. After all,
which lesson at school was devoted to colour symbology? (Perhaps that's on the
curriculum now?)
So how do we know that red light spells expiration? I would
argue that the answer, or at least the clues, can be found in Earth's natural
phenomena. When our long summer days are completed, our woodlands undergo a
spectacular metamorphosis; lush and leafy green foliage transforms into crisp
autumnally red articles that depart their aerial position and float gracefully
down to a welcoming blanket of further redness below. It's a sight to warm the
heart, and I often enjoy ambling through my local woodlands during October,
listening to the crunch and crisp that nature's red carpet provides.
Anyone that has marvelled at a sunrise or witnessed a sunset
will note about the palette of dark reds and light reds which are interspersed
within the tints of gold and the tones of orange, and once again, they
collectively celebrate the end of a day cycle or a night cycle. The sunset
marks the end of the day shift for some; the end of guiltless back garden
sunbathing for others. For plants, the end of photosynthesis; for nocturnal
fauna, the end (hopefully) of a good sleep. There is, then, a symbolic colour
that manifests through nature's body clock; an unmistakable redness in our
landscape.
Perhaps, it doesn't just exemplify completion or
termination. How many times have you been sitting in your car waiting for the
lights to change from red to green and silently contemplated over your day;
your week; your life? How many times has a walk through your red autumnal
forests sparked memories of a summer spent? How many times has a sunset triggered
a moment of deep reflection? I may argue therefore that Earth's 'redness'
elicits a sense of profound meditation in all of us. If contemplation had to be
coloured, perhaps it would be red; we express our emotions through redness. A
rose on Valentine's Day. A poppy when we remember the fallen. Red faces upon embarrassment
or anger.
For those within the UK, red has become embraced and
incorporated into the very texture of our nationalism. The red London bus, the
red letterbox, the red telephone box; if any colour was to exhibit British
culture and British nationalism, I would argue that red would be the successful
applicant. From the BBC logo to the English flag and Red Nose Day, a trail of
redness swarms around our villages, towns and cities in immeasurable volumes; our
national pride, although diminishing in the face of globalisation, is sustained
within the very redness of our urban environment. 
But that very association- the intangible links between
nationalism and redness- is one that is imagined; indeed, the very idea of a
nation is imagined. Benedict Anderson famously wrote in 1973 that individuals
construct the concept of a society; an 'imagined community' composed of a group
who share common heritage, common views; common identity and affiliation to a
particular nation. Likewise, our association between redness and nationalism is
one deeply set in the core of our own imagination. It's so deeply embedded into
our culture, that it appears permanent and irreversible. The truth is, all it
comes down to is a whirring mix of chemicals and hormones inside our minds.
So if it isn't fixed- if these geographical discourses on colour
are mere emotion, thought and feeling- why study them so intensively? Well,
Geography's pivotal agenda according to Bonnett (2008) is to "find and
impose meaning into a seemingly chaotic world" and most of those meanings
are ones that reside inside our mind. Man's greatest theories stem from mere
ideas; our greatest landmarks inspire emotions; our finest landscapes stir and
excite our imaginations. Places remind us of memories; sometimes of our darkest
hours, sometimes of our highest achievements. Places spark curiosity, they
initiate fears; they propagate hope. Colours such as red, when they do appear
either on the leaves of our trees, or behind the clouds of our dusk-lit skies,
remind us of the sheer presence and vitality of the world in which we live. A
planet that through intricate connections with our emotions, thoughts and
feelings, is one that we have settled to call 'home'.
Sunday, 25 May 2014
'Colouring in between the lines'- Part 1: 'Green' Earth
'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....
In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.
This week, he focuses on all things Green and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.
'And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England's pleasant pastures seen!'
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England's pleasant pastures seen!'
[William Blake
'Jerusalem' 1808]
It's fair to say that we've all done it; cruised along
England's multitudinous array of urban highways and country tracks, rested our
temple against the sunlit pane of the wind-up window, and gazed out to
England's 'green and pleasant land'. The landscapes of Britain make up a
patchwork quilt of utter diversity. Vista after vista, we as humans are
enchanted about this nation's rich variety of eye-appealing panoramas, but
seldom do we appreciate just how wonderfully simple they really are. I use
'simple' cautiously; of course, the tapestry of the English landscape is one
composed of a range of complex interactions and processes. Just viewing one of
Constable's works for half an hour will reveal the density of life occupying
our rural landscapes, but I would strongly argue here that there must be
something so clear-cut and frank in our countryside which makes us find it so
appealing from the start.
After all, just take note of how we fall in love with
things; entities, people, environments. To love a film, for instance, we have
to travel to our local cinema, queue for a ticket, endure a generation of
trailers and adverts before we can claim to fall in love with the actual film.
We take time out of our own lives to read, and it may take several chapters to
'get into' it, so to speak. Falling in love with people may take an hour or two
worth of coffee-fuelled, lively and engaging chat in the local café.
But when it comes to our rural landscape, our instantaneous
love seeps from our hearts; we cruise around a corner and are immediately
immersed with an entirely different set of surroundings which, for some reason,
we instantly stare at. ‘Love at first sight’, one may say, and arguably less awkward
than that 'first date'. (In addition, it’s free of charge and does not consume
time).
So what draws us? What aspect of the landscape is that
intangible force that revolves our head from our iPad to our car window? What
essence of 'England's pleasant pastures' stir the human imagination in such a
way that we are emphatically encapsulated within the blessed panorama? Perhaps,
the clue is in Blake's poem: quite possibly it is the greenness of our hills
and dales, the greenness of our moors and heaths, the greenness of our meadows
and pastures that sparks our passion with the landscape.
Anyone that owns a pack of crayons (a useful item for
geographers apparently) should ensure that the green crayon is forever
sharpened, as there is no doubt that this is a green planet. A blue hue is
evident from space and that is noteworthy, albeit misleading; our life,
particularly our flora, however, simply radiates greenness. Take a peek through
the catalogue of Google Images at Clipart illustrations of Earth, and then
agree with me that land is more often than not coloured in green. Naturally,
our bounty of satellite images may tell a different story, especially in an age
of hyper-globalisation and intense industrialisation, and in some ways, this
makes the fact that 'green' is used to portray terrestrial land all the more
interesting. By colouring our land in green, perhaps we are trying to cling on
to our heritage; an age prior to human occupation when a squirrel could venture
hundreds of miles without making contact with terra firma. Or quite possibly,
we are hopeful that in the future, Planet Earth will return once again to
inescapable foliage and impenetrable shrubbery. Either way, we as humans- a
species that deforests, builds, creatively destructs our landscape, a species
that gnaws away at greenness - continue to portray our terrestrial land as
monotonously green.
Our compassion and sympathy with nature may re-emerge in the
future as we embrace the 'garden city'.
That's not to say we close our high-street shops, stick a pair of
gardening gloves on, and unite in an afternoon of weeding and pruning, but that
we incorporate greenness into our urban environment. It was an idea championed
at the start of the 20th century, and indeed remains a method of urban planning
adopted across the world, from New York to São Paulo, from Adelaide to New Delhi.
However, it all started in the UK, in a town called Letchworth that finds
itself nested within the confines of Hertfordshire. Why do we still create them? Perhaps, there's something about the
colour green that softens the marks of our industrial project; something to
mask the brick and mortar; something that more profoundly makes us feel that
little bit less guilty when we are reminded about the pace of our urbanisation.
What the 'garden city' movement more interestingly
highlights is the nature of flux and impermanence in our world today. In less
than two centuries, our entire position on nature and its potential has changed
in Herculean fashion. Our Industrial Revolution was an era of senseless
violence to our rural landscape; a capitalism-fired destruction of all that was
green and pleasant in our land. In the aftermath, we now pause and consider our
wrongdoings; our uncharitable selfishness with regards to conservation and protection,
and in desperation we make space in our towns and cities to reincorporate
greenness. Our markets are not the only things growing in the 21st century, and
ironically in some cities, the plants are actually prospering more. Maybe we
should inject some chlorophyll into our stock exchange?
But of course, this has always been a world of impermanence.
I was laying in a meadow not so long ago, on the outskirts of my university
campus. It's a place that positively screams tranquillity, and yet I seemed to
be the only one here on this particular afternoon. There I found myself
examining the meadow's carpet . How elemental it is, but how simply wonderful
the clouds are in influencing the tints of green of the meadow. As cloud after
cloud passed under our Sun's beam, so that electric bright green seamlessly converts
to a darker, more earthy shade and back to its dazzling tint.
I closed my eyes and remembered another time when I found
contentment in lounging on the ground; Alaska in the fall of 2012. There I
would lay, surveying the magical twilit heavens, and the celestial dance of the
Aurora Borealis. A nocturnal spectacle; a display far greater than any staged
or theatrical production. And very green. I would argue, purely on my own experience,
that the best representation of greenness- apart from our illustrious
countryside- are the Northern Lights. But, once again, a tale of impermanence
and unpredictability, for the lights cannot be forecasted. Their ornate shapes
or their sumptuous dance cannot be foretold. It's one of life's greatest
pleasures; the knowledge that we as humans don't (and never will) control
everything.
How multifaceted 'greenness' is for our planet; how diverse
its meaning. For many, it symbolises nature and hope. For others, it symbolises
death and sickness- anyone who has experienced the tragedy of mouldy bread will
know what I mean here. It's a colour of freedom that performs a duty in our
everyday lives, whether it's the bottom bulb on a set of traffic lights, or the
'green card'. In some respects recently, green has lost its colour, as the word
has become caught up in an environmental and conservation appeals: "go
green", "think green", "live green" and so on.
For me, however, it's the impermanence and instability of
greenness on our planet that makes it such a substantial issue, and upon
consideration, maybe it's the fact that it’s becoming more difficult to find
that makes me fall more in love with it when I see it. They say ‘distance makes
the heart grow fonder’; indeed, as we are forever distanciated from our 'green
and pleasant land', maybe there's renewed hope that we will, at some point,
rekindle our love for all things green.
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