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    <title type="text">Culture Making Articles items tagged 19th century</title>
    <subtitle type="text">Culture Making Articles:Writing on Christianity and culture from Andy Crouch</subtitle>
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    <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
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    <entry>
      <title>The Jolly Flatboatmen (detail), by George Caleb Bingham</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/the_jolly_flatboatmen_detail_by_george_caleb_bingham" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.1853</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

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					<b>Nate: </b><em>?This 19th century slice-of-riparian-life manages to combine joyous abandon with highly stylized composition. I love its mannered glimpse at labor, camaraderie, and do-it-yourself entertainment.?</em><br />
		
		<a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/special/americanstories/objectView.aspx?oid=9&sid=3"><img src="http://culture-making.com/media/flatboatmen2.jpg" alt="image" /></a><hr />
<div class="author" style="font-size: -1">"<a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/special/americanstories/objectView.aspx?oid=9&sid=3">The Jolly Flatboatmen</a>" (detail), oil on canvas, 1846, by George Caleb Bingham, from the exhibition <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/special/americanstories/objectView.aspx?oid=9&sid=3">American Stories: Paintings of Everyday Life</a>, at the <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/home.asp">Metropolitan Museum of Art</a>, 12 October 2009–24 January 2010 :: via <a href="http://coudal.com/archives/2010/02/american_storie.php?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+CoudalFreshSignals+%28Coudal%3A+Fresh+Signals%29&utm_content=Google+Reader">Coudal Partners</a></div>		
	
			
			
			

		
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    </entry>    <entry>
      <title>The secret of successful sauntering</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/the_secret_of_successful_sauntering" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.1665</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

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					<b>Nate: </b><em>?Earlier this week I was reading Dickens' <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=z3QZAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=dickens+bleak+house&ei=ViTWSuiEN4uolQTmg6moAQ#v=onepage&q=&f=false">Bleak House</a> on my phone while I was waiting in the doctor's office, and it was leaving me more and more lost. So on a whim I switched over to Thoreau's essay, which I must have first heard about in Rebecca Solnit's wonderful book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0140286012/cmcom-20">Wanderlust: A History of Walking</a> and immediately felt more and more found. Insurance companies should recommend this stuff. Just now, though, I've been struck less by the lovely prose and surprising etymologies than by when in American History his essay was published—that is, in the middle of the Civil War, a few months after Shiloh and a few months before Antietam, each battle having topped the sum of all previous American war deaths in a single day. An odd time for an essay on the wonders of getting away from people and out into the landscape? Or perhaps the perfect time.?</em><br />
		
		<p>I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks,— who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering: which word is beautifully derived &#8220;from idle people who roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretence of going <i>à la Sainte Terre,</i>&#8221; to the Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, &#8220;There goes a <i>Sainte-Terrer,</i>&#8221; a Saunterer,—a Holy-Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from <i>sans terre</i>, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea. But I prefer the first, which, indeed, is the most probable derivation. For every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels.</p><p>It is true, we are but faint-hearted crusaders, even the walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side from which we set out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return,—prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again,—if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man, then you are ready for a walk.</p><hr />
<div class="author" style="font-size: -1">from "<a href="http://books.google.com/books?pg=PA657&dq=%22go+forth+on+the+shortest+walk,+perchance%22&ei=2R_WSuTmMaCQkATxr72IAQ&id=ZqwxRc01fFkC&as_brr=1#v=onepage&q=%22go%20forth%20on%20the%20shortest%20walk%2C%20perchance%22&f=false">Walking</a>," by Henry David Thoreau, <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com"><i>The Atlantic Monthly</i></a>, June 1862</div>		
	
			
			
			

		
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    </entry>    <entry>
      <title>Correct method to raise a soldier</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/correct_method_to_raise_a_soldier" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.918</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

      <content type="html"><![CDATA[
        
			
			
			

					<b><p>Nate</p>: </b><em>?From the New York Public Library's Digital Gallery, which has over 600,000 images from the NYPL's collections. I was searching around with keywords like gesture and posture, and found this: "Three soldiers carry a fourth to demonstrate one stage of the correct method to raise a soldier from a reclining position for carrying." It's clearly not so easy to hoist a comrade and then hold absolutely still for the many seconds necessary to make an 1860s photo.?</em><br />
		
		<a href="http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/dgkeysearchdetail.cfm?trg=1&strucID=444865&imageID=1150162&word=posture&s=1&notword;=&d;=&c;=&f;=&lWord;=&lField;=&sScope;=&sLevel;=&sLabel;=&total=8&num=0&imgs=12&pNum;=&pos=7#"><img src="http://culture-making.com/media/woundedcarry.jpg" alt="photo" /></a><hr />
<div class="author" style="font-size: -1">"<a href="http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/dgkeysearchdetail.cfm?trg=1&strucID=444865&imageID=1150162&word=posture&s=1&notword;=&d;=&c;=&f;=&lWord;=&lField;=&sScope;=&sLevel;=&sLabel;=&total=8&num=0&imgs=12&pNum;=&pos=7#">Lifting a wounded or sick soldier</a>," photographer unknown, from <i>United States Sanitary Commission records (1861-1865)</i>, <a href="http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/dgkeysearchdetail.cfm?trg=1&strucID=444865&imageID=1150162&word=posture&s=1&notword;=&d;=&c;=&f;=&lWord;=&lField;=&sScope;=&sLevel;=&sLabel;=&total=8&num=0&imgs=12&pNum;=&pos=7#">NYPL Digital Gallery</a> :: via <a href="http://www.typography.com/ask/showBlog.php?blogID=136">Hoefler & Frere-Jones</a></div>		
	
			
			
			

		
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    </entry>    <entry>
      <title>Wayne Ave., Dayton, Ohio</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/wayne_ave_dayton_ohio" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.657</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

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			<p><iframe width="420" height="240" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps/sv?cbp=1,590.4296024856218,,0,-8.60239174121411&amp;cbll=39.750894,-84.175766&amp;v=1&amp;panoid=D9FdOiaagyO-F1B5eAn09w&amp;gl=&amp;hl="></iframe></p><br />
<b><p>Nate</p>: </b><em>?Just a fragment from a longer Sunday "drive" I took around Dayton this morning. Much of the neighborhood around Wayne Street and Xenia Ave. seems down on its heels -- lots of boarded-up doors and windows -- but I liked both the remaining (and reasonably maintained) Victorian detail on this pair of houses, and the added patriotic bunting, which both fits in with the architecture and adds an ephemeral touch, a reminder that people are actively caring for this place.?</em><br /><hr />
<span style="font-size: -1"><a id="cbembedlink" href="http://maps.google.com/maps?cbp=1,590.4296024856218,,0,-8.60239174121411&cbll=39.750894,-84.175766&ll=39.750894,-84.175766&layer=c">Google Maps</a></span>
	
			
			
			

		
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