Final Reflection Blog Post

I wanted to make something sweet
The blood inside the maple tree
The sunlight trapped inside the wood
Make something good
I wanted to make something strong
An organ pipe in a cathedral
That stays in tune through a thousand blooms
Make something good
It’s gonna take a long, long time
But we’re gonna make something so fine

–Laura Veirs

Local Networks: Toward a Decolonial Map of Pullman has been a project which began not with a question, but by rejecting what has become the default answer. In eschewing discourses of measurement, and reconceiving answers to “where am I,” or perhaps “where are we?” in a decolonial way, the project has in the process opened itself up (and I have opened myself up) to the importance of place, the deep itch of colonial discourses, and the importance of the question, of process, and of iteration. This headspace, the desire to make something good, birthed the project–not the working environment of ArcGIS or the multimodal affordances of Scalar. In my career as a graduate student, I have tended to work in the opposite way with digital projects, getting to know a tool and then finding something to do with it. Beginning with a cultural question of reframing for this project has brought me to a different place.

I began by reframing current maps of Pullman within their colonial contexts. The project then engaged with a critical aesthetic: what do maps look like if/when they no longer avail themselves of colonial discourses? The first answer only imagined the map as a tool. It was a sketch on paper, an experiment in how to represent space without asserting the authority of the plat map. It lacked depth, and perhaps just as importantly, it lacked utility. The next iteration recognized the centrality of people and culture to any question of understanding and using space, especially in resisting colonial legacies. The social media map idea was an attempt to show that digital mapping tools like ArcGIS could be made to be technologies of recovery, and work to continually reveal injustices and reinstate humanity in our systems of knowing.

To me, the social media map is an excellent example of a digital humanities project which is able to bring theory and practice together, and to create something new and accessible. In resisting colonial discourses, however–in being people-centered and useful–it is severely limited. Had this project begun with the Public Information mapping layer, as an interesting tool with which to work, the end result of the project would ultimately be disappointing: the social media map was ultimately constrained to produce a skewed, primarily capital-driven view of the Pullman area. Through making the social media map, though, I learned that I was not content to make an end product which would be a display piece. Maps are meant to be used. Related to this realization was the idea that  This realization led me to a new approach.

Instead of being excited about the technological opportunities of populating ArcGIS with Tweets and Instagram photos, I found myself in recent weeks consumed with the idea of making something good–something that might be of use to Native students at WSU. The tool fell away as a focus and became, well, just a tool. Similarly, a multimodal project was a natural consequence of the discourses that I had chosen to challenge, not a project goal unto itself; I am comfortable with this state as a natural part of scholarship, which only reinforces what Jessop has asserted about the established place of visual arguments within broader scholarship (288). The iterative nature of the project also allowed me to pause and read several seminal works on postcolonial mapping and geography.

In working with Native Programs, I was pleased that I could begin working with people. I realized that the social media map had been distant, algorithmic, even sterile. In working directly with Native students on campus, I found them reshaping the project yet again–my concept of the Pullman space, of their backgrounds and experiences, was limited by the theory I sought to employ, by the goals of the course and the environment of Scalar. Bringing people into the equation, centering them, set me on a new course, one which harnesses the idea of process–a yearly fluctuation as students come and go–in order to make something good.

In the coming months and years, I hope to remain involved with Native Programs as we help them to set up a mapping station with ArcGIS. In this way, the project will continue to iterate, but it will do so out of my hands. Rightfully so: if a network is one alternative to a colonial map which seizes power, then it should leave the hands of any one person and become the possession of a community in order to be effective.

The Digital Humanities should not trace only a history of shiny tools. If we are, according to Jones, “developing a new “consensual imagination about the role of the network in relation to the physical and social world” (para. 3), then that is a people-centered endeavor by its very definition. If an eversion is changing humanity’s relationship to its technologies, then digital scholarship must follow suit by beginning with the human, and with community, not excluding it.

Humanists begin with questions, and later, perhaps much later, they seek out those tools that will best aid them in a quest for answers. Though they wonder, they are not scientists; though they make, they are not engineers. Perhaps they are philosophers, occultists, or theorists. To Tara MacPherson, digital humanists have been artists. She traces a new history of the digital humanities in A Feminist in a Software Lab:

An alternative origin story for the digital humanities might begin not with experiments in text markup but instead with various engagements with the expressive audiovisual capacities of electronic screen culture…rather than plumb the possibilities of text, [early] collaborations investigated how artists might contribute to technological development while also producing new technologically rich aesthetic experiences.

The digital humanities must be, by this definition, concerned with aesthetics, experimental, and deeply multimodal. Earlier this year, I pointed out that “by arguing for new types of projects, [MacPherson] is allowing for the modes of communication (linguistic, visual, aural, spatial, etc.) to influence, react to, and complement one another.” However, importantly, she also “argues for the same types of moves in content.” Multimodality complements process and iteration, and defies an impulse to “bracket off” issues in a kind of scholarly tunnel vision. MacPherson’s idea of “the cut,” which focuses on one issue but not at the expense of all others, is thus extremely appropriate for an iterative online project–one sees her reasoning driving the success of Vectors, and now Scalar, as platforms. In fact, such an approach is crucial for Gannon’s recovery and Duarte’s reframing, and can only be supported by a process-based view of what it means to do digital work, in which the cut is made and remade ad infinitum. Graduate students and established scholars alike must take stock of digital project holistically: people, culture, methods, evidence, tools, and art must remain in the remix of new iterations. If anything is truly new about the era of digital scholarship, it is our ability to embrace this process-based view of knowledge creation. The questions and answers have always evolved over time, with new information. Now we have no excuse but to keep pace with that change.

For my teaching in DTC 101, that means continually foregrounding digital technologies with people and cultures. It requires that I re-write my course so that each discussion of a tool or method is tied directly to questions about class, race, power, gender, and community. In fact, it requires that we begin with these cultural paradigms, and then find their expression in digital technologies. One example in UX/UI design might be that we begin with the question, “what do people need to navigate a system?” and imagine a diverse population of people who will be using a given piece of software.

Emphasizing empathy as the initial step on the path of design thinking is crucial to all discussions of the built world, but empathy should therefore also be present in units on data and archiving/curation. An example for data might be starting with privacy and disproportionately harsh tracking of racial minorities online, before moving on to discuss the nuts and bolts of technology which allow for such tracking. With archiving and curation, we can begin with the question of “what things are worth saving?” and talk about the values of different cultural artifacts within various cultures, foregrounding any work with specific archives, their designs, or the acts of curation which make them available (or acts of selective curation, in the case of Mukurtu, which protect them). In these ways and more, I hope to continually foreground people and culture as we study digital technologies.

Scalar Project Log

This is my ongoing project log for Scalar.

Update 2/6:

After learning about Storymaps and thinking about what kind of project that I would like to do with Scalar, it came to mind that having already done some research on mapping in Pullman, I would like to continue with a digital effort to resist what Ralph Cintron calls “colonial discourses of measurement” which are encoded in the dominant cartographical discourse of Google maps. The project will attempt to challenge these discourses by mapping Pullman via tweet. The aim may be too ambitious for my current ability with the programming necessary to create a layer in Storymaps based on tweets, but I will hopefully meet with Alex soon to discuss my possibilities.

Update 2/14:

I have found a potential way of mapping tweets onto a Storymaps layer. The big question now is whether or not I can filter those tweets. My main idea at this moment is to try and map according to certain hashtags or languages in order to create a visualization of lived experience in the Pullman area (without roads, buildings, etc.). As I wish to counter dominant spatial narratives, non-English tweets may prove useful.

Update 2/22:

After reading the books by Chan and particularly Duarte, I am very interested in the idea of “reframing,” as Duarte puts it. In the context of reframing, my project would seek to understand Google Maps as a cartographical infrastructure, a “crystallization” of institutions which mapped places like Pullman in accordance with a colonial agenda. In resistance to this paradigm, the Storymaps layer could map tweets onto their geographically tagged locations, but leave the underlying map minimal or even abstract. I also want to think about the possibility of manually tagging the map in accordance with a local tribe’s understanding and use of the land. Not sure how I would go about that, but it seems like a cool idea.

Update 3/12:

Mapping Tweets has proven to be a bit difficult, mostly because the current API used by the Storymaps Public Information layer that I am using will only pull Tweets from the last 24 hours and won’t allow for another filter. At the moment, there is no way to pull from the alternative API which would give me more control. I’ve added Instagram to the map to see how that goes.

Update 4/3:

I am working on a suggestion from Dr. Christen to work with Native Programs in order to have students tag locations which are important to them. This would be a better alternative to the social media mapping that I was trying to do through ArcGIS. The social media map is neat, but it ultimately doesn’t do the kind of work that I think matters in the case of resisting colonial geographies. One reason for this is that nearly half of the posts (or more) which are geotagged and show up on the map are somehow related to companies or advertising. This is likely due to the fact that local companies make sure to include geographical information in their tweets.

Update 4/10:

I had a great opportunity to visit Native Programs and students helped me map more than ten points that were important to them! Sadly, I was so excited and wrapped up in the moment that I forgot that ArcGIS does not cloud save. I feel pretty dumb about this, but Dr. Christen has been really kind and encouraged me to go back. I plan to visit again this week.

Dr. Christen also provided me with several resources–mostly theoretical, relating to intersections of mapping, postcolonial studies, and American Indian studies–which will help me to flesh out the theoretical side of my project. I am envisioning a kind of “theory and practice” approach when it is finished, where the first half of the project will be theoretical background, then the latter half will be the collections of maps and the final project.

Update 4/17:

The Scalar is coming along. I have only a few points mapped after a second visit to Native Programs, but as for now, I am just glad to have something on the map. I want to continue this project with Faith, so I believe that I can set them up with a map in the future through ArcGIS (not Google, due to the problems involved with that platform and inclusion). As such, I am seeing this version of the map as a proof of concept. Dr. Christen has encouraged me also to keep the social media map.

Update 4/23:

I am mostly done with the theoretical underpinnings for my project at this point, so I have taken some time to write them out and reorganize the Scalar. I broke the long page of writing into four sections which can be explored separately.

Update 4/25:

I spent a lot of time today polishing the Scalar after feedback in class. I created a path which moves through the theoretical argument and then into the maps themselves. In a stroke of luck, I managed to secure the rights to use an HD drone flyover of the Palouse from a gentleman on Youtube, so I tried out an experimental feature in Scalar to set that (in MP4 form) as the title page to the site! It’s awesome!

Theoretically, I also decided to foreground my interest in synthesizing Gannon and Duarte as the final theoretical impulse for my project, drawing on my favorite idea that I came across in my blog posts. I may decide to do a bit more with the idea of the network as an alternative to the map, if I have time.

Update 5/1-5/7:

I have completed the theoretical framing of each section, and added the final “coda” in lieu of a full conclusion, to reflect the iterative nature of the project.

English 560 – Algorithms of Oppression

 In your post create a counternarrative that speaks “back” to the broadly held ideas that search is neutral, factual, objective and or true. You may use a combination of written and graphic elements in your post ensuring that you have a holistic argument and that you use Noble’s work to build from in your post.


I decided to make this post one that I might share with students in an English 101 or DTC 101 class, as we are beginning to talk about information literacy, Google, and the web. The goal here is to show that Google uses an “advertising algorithm,” and that Google search is not a “neutral technology.”  Differences between Google and more formal reference databases reveal themselves when we simply compare a search* on Google with a search within a respected publication like the Encyclopedia Brittanica Online:

*note that I am logged out for all of the Google searches below.

Trump Search
Here we have a Google search for “donald trump.” Google overwhelmingly highlights current news headlines, Donald Trump’s own recent statements, and his own rhetorical presentations of himself. 


Trump Brittanica
In contrast with Google, this reference entry collection on Donald Trump features up front sourcing, a history of edits, an overview of Trump front and center, and useful links which give us some idea of major issues related to his career and presidency. 

I found the Encyclopedia Brittanica results interesting, because they provide a longer view of Trump’s presidency and career, as well as the issues with which he has been involved, in context. This contrasts markedly from the Google search of Trump, which overwhelmingly features headlines and snapshots from his activity (or stories about his activity) over the last 24 to 48 hours.

Even though Brittanica is not a public service, the motivations here are clearly different than those of Google: both feature advertising, but the (admittedly annoying) advertising at Brittanica Online is clearly delineated as such. The actual research is cited and presented in something resembling a fragmented, but long-form argument. What is perhaps most important about this comparison is that when searching for Trump using the 2018 Google algorithm and UI, at least half of the information immediately present at the top of the page has been written or otherwise produced by Trump or his organization.

None of this is particularly unexpected from an algorithmic perspective, when we remember that Google is a search company which makes its money from finding the most relevant content for a user’s search in the given moment. The problem is that we often forget that Google is not Brittanica or even Wikipedia. When we turn to Google for facts and information, its advertising algorithm is primed to give us instant gratification in the moment, but not to provide context or nuance.

Having lived and worked there for four years, Japan is often a sore spot for me when it comes to general American ideas of what the country and its people are like. The internet has perpetuated an idea of Japan as “cool” or especially “weird” which is highly unrealistic and steeped in a particular internet culture, not based in reality. As such, I decided to see how Google’s algorithm parsed “Japanese music.”

Japanese music search
I wish that I were more surprised at the two results mainly featured on this page: JPOP and music for “relaxation.”
Japanese music Brittanica
Again, context is important, and this entry provides a much more traditional look at Japanese music from the get-go, though of course it does get to JPOP.

Google’s algorithm has decided that the term “Japanese music,” in English, is mostly likely going to be used by those searching for one of two things (based on the placement of these items at the top of the search): music for “relaxation” and JPOP. The general characterization of Japanese traditional music as relaxing is a Western stereotype–often extended to most traditional music in Asia–which we can see coded directly into (or perhaps learned by) the algorithm itself. If we look further at the “relaxing” results here, we can see that most of these suggestions are for videos which feature long blocks of unnamed “Japanese music” of potentially dubious origin. Even if these videos do not contain songs originally produced for Western audiences, the videos themselves have lumped them together into “3 HOURS of the Best Traditional Japanese Music – Relaxing.”

It is perhaps unsurprising that the other result returned by Google here is JPOP, the most commonly consumed Japanese music. While JPOP is an understandable result for a search engine, interestingly enough, the bands featured on the side happen to be many JPOP bands which are popular with Western audiences, not necessarily the top hits within Japan itself. In contrast, the same search in Brittanica Online provides extremely detailed information on traditional Japanese music as part of a long argument about what makes Japanese music unique.

Both of these search examples make it clear that Google’s algorithm is geared for instant gratification and imbued with cultural assumptions. Though there are undoubtedly problems to be found with Brittanica Online, comparing the two websites reveals how far from neutral or authoritative Google’s search technology truly is.



MacPherson, Feminist in a Software Lab

I’d like to start out by highlighting something that I found central to MacPherson’s entire framework. We didn’t cover this in class (and I didn’t bring it up, as I was supposed to cover the 2nd half of the book), but she lays out an alternative “origin story” for the digital humanities, one rooted in multimodal projects. I found this to be really compelling, first because MacPherson acknowledges that DH is a complex “field” which has emerged from several directions at once (versus a strict English–>DH narrative), and second because it allows us to centralize critical creativity:

An alternative origin story for the digital humanities might begin not with experiments in text markup but instead with various engagements with the expressive audiovisual capacities of electronic screen culture…rather than plumb the possibilities of text, [early] collaborations investigated how artists might contribute to technological development while also producing new technologically rich aesthetic experiences.

It is important that this is the point from which MacPherson begins her most recent book, Feminist in a Software Lab, because the affordances of multimedia projects like those promoted in Vectors, and of multimedia platforms such as Scalar, coordinate form with content. Ultimately, Elle’s question about the separation of creative and critical work on Tuesday allowed us to see what MacPherson is doing in this book more clearly: by arguing for new types of projects, she is allowing for the modes of communication (linguistic, visual, aural, spatial, etc.) to influence, react to, and complement one another, even as she argues for the same types of moves in content.

It strikes me that “fuzzy cuts” might work on both the critical and creative level within DH projects, depending on how we envision multimodal projects. With Chan’s historicizing of the pottery trade in Peru, Duarte’s heuristic of “reframing,” and finally MacPherson’s emphasis on the cut, one notices a general trend of eschewing altogether the laser-focused work of traditional academia, which “brackets” to maintain disciplinary borders and strict specialization. Instead, MacPherson draws on a historicizing practice at the same time that she complicates linguistic dominance in the academy. The result are Vectors projects–and ultimately Scalar–which seek to revolutionize how we think of form as well as content in the humanities. This is a particularly useful way to answer the call from Gallon and others to “humanize” the humanities, giving relationality its critical due as well as opening up all avenues for creative human expression.  As I mentioned in class, I believe that it is important to allow creative concerns to be part of the initial research question and early process, instead of just part of the output. Perhaps we might think of the process as creative, instead of just the product.

Scalar Project Update

Networks of Being: Countering Discourses of Measurement

(working title)

In Angels’ Town, Ralph Cintron critiques the colonial venture of mapping space with a term that he coins “discourses of measurement.” Discourses of measurement are modern methods of control, the “ways by which a precise order (or the fiction of a precise order) gets made” (210). In the book, Cintron elaborates a map of “Angelstown” in order to reveal a change from “islands in a river and nearby forests” to personal property given legitimacy through a formal (colonial) discourse of measurement, arguing that maps are always colonial (37). But what alternatives do we have to colonial maps, now digitized by the likes of Google? These are seen as the maps, from major corporations to the family on a road trip. The only maps that matter.

One answer has to be mapping lived experience. If discourses of measurement are meant to exercise control over the land and people, then our alternative map should be relational. Chan, Duarte, and MacPherson have all highlighted the importance of relationality and history to understanding networks. Essentially, this project would seek to build on those ideas to create a new kind of map. Where discourses of measurement deliberately “bracket” away social injustice and intersectional realities in order to exert control, a proper cartographic response would lie in what MacPherson calls “the cut.” Such a project would stay specifically local to Pullman but in no way divorce itself from global forces. It would allow for lived experiences to merge and overlap, forming a relational network tied to the land and its use.

My first instinct when working on this project last year was to make a map by hand, but now I see that there is no need to resist the digital, simply because of the digital form of dominant neocolonial discourses, such as Google Maps. Instead, I will harness the digital by using social media in order to provide an alternative to discourses of measurement.

Following Chan’s lead in Networking Peripheries, I will aim to keep the project small and locally-focused. In early maps of Pullman, we can see discourses of measurement in the mapping of space by colonial cartographers. These maps projected lots for hundreds of people who had yet to arrive in the area onto land which belonged to Native communities. As time went on, new maps of the area expanded the settlement of Pullman and eventually included the grounds of what would become WSU. Now, Google maps, the City of Pullman, and WSU itself all map the area based on these colonial discourses of measurement, which established roads, neighborhoods, and lots for development well over a century ago. My project will seek first to use Scalar to foreground this colonial history of mapping Pullman as a “reframing” of Google Maps and university mapping data. Next, it will de-emphasize or remove these discourses from the equation and create a new, live map of the city based on lived experience.

The project will harness geotagged tweets in order to map them based on location data. Instead of guiding the map reader via the above-mentioned discourses of measurement, however, this map will rely on locations mentioned in the tweets. As such, the resulting map will be one of connections between people, as well as the land, but not between roads or buildings. The

I have yet to create the Storymaps layer which will map the tweets; this will be the biggest technical challenge, of course, and I could use some help figuring out if it is possible only to map certain tweets. It could be valuable to map only non-English tweets, or tweets in another specific language. Alternatively, the space could be mapped manually via photo and video (which would likely allow for a creative project which also challenged the dominance of the linguistic mode).

Duarte: Network Sovereignty

However, the black digital humanities forces us to move backward before moving forward in thinking about tools, to first consider how the very foundation of the humanities are racialized through the privileging of Western cultural traditions. It then asks us to assess whether those tools would still be used in the same manner had they been developed to explore the texts that were and are marginalized through the racialization of the humanities.
Gallon, “Making a Case for the Black Digital Humanities)

One of the most compelling ideas that I have encountered this semester is that the digital humanities is a chance to “reboot” the humanities, if you will. Throughout the last several weeks, I have been wrestling with the implications of such an endeavor: implications for my scholarship, the field of English, for early modern studies. As Kim Gallon asks us to consider, who is and who is not a digital humanist has real stakes when funding might depend on the term (para. 4). As such, if I am going to consider myself a digital humanities scholar, I have to be willing to make digital work count–not only making use of digital affordances for traditional scholarship, but to branch out and challenge those traditions.

What does this look like? In “Making a Case for the Black Digital Humanities,” Gallon lays out a “technology of recovery”:

I would argue that any connection between humanity and the digital therefore requires an investigation into how computational processes might reinforce the notion of a humanity developed out of racializing systems, even as they foster efforts to assemble or otherwise build alternative human modalities. This tension is enacted through what I call a “technology of recovery,” characterized by efforts to bring forth the full humanity of marginalized peoples through the use of digital platforms and tools…

…The black digital humanities probes and disrupts the ontological notions that would have us accept humanity as a fixed category, an assumption that unproblematically emanates in the digital realm.

Of course, Gallon goes on to discuss how scholars should practice, and are already practicing, these technologies of recovery within the humanities. This week, I found another voice, similar to Gallon’s, arguing for the same work.

In Network Sovereignty, Marisa Elena Duarte lays out her method of “reframing” for approaching intersections between Native and Indigenous communities and information and communications technologies (ICTs). According to Duarte,

One goal of reframing is to show the complexities of social problems that members of a privileged class deem endemic and inherent to reservation life. Reframing means deciding which historical factors shape the background of a problem and what conditions shape indigenous possibility within the contemporary moment.

A natural synthesis between Gallon and Duarte immediately stood out to me while reading Network Sovereignty, but it was only when I returned to Gallon that I realized how closely their ideas are connected. The “re” in both Gallon’s “recovery” and Duarte’s “reframing” is a nice way to conceptualize how both authors are essentially prioritizing a historicity in humanities approaches to technology. For Gallon, that means exposing whiteness inherent in humanities disciplines and approaches, and challenging dominant scholarship conventions with regard to canonization, etc. Where Gallon speaks about such broad disciplinary moves, Duarte has the chance to act on the idea of “reframing,” both broad and specific, in her book. Through the process of historicizing broadband access, she is able to link digital technologies with access concerns, colonial narratives past and present, public policy, ecology, and Native and Indigenous culture. Working at these intersections and more, Duarte is able to reveal whiteness and colonial modes of thought–just as Gallon advocates–which have been imported into the world of science and technology: she highlights, as one example, how difficult it can get those working in such fields to recognize the need for Native and Indigenous communities to have fast and affordable internet access.

Duarte’s approach is so well thought-out and executed in Network Sovereignty that it has helped to transform, in my mind, the ideas put forth by Gallon into something that I can see in action and relate to my own work. Certainly, when it comes to teaching in DTC, Duarte provides a model for historicizing and problematizing dominant narratives about technology and culture. I can model this for students and ask them to engage in thinking about colonial narratives which are embedded in our notions of technological determinism and “progress.” Where I am working with born-digital scholarship, I would like to make sure that it continually recognizes the default assumptions inherent in digital systems. As an early modernist, however, I will likely be working a great deal with or adding to archives and other structures which pre-date the web and will need to be transitioned online. I should take that point of transition as an opportunity to historicize not only the traditional academic print culture from which such materials come, and its colonial roots, but the entire enterprise of privileging certain works and literary traditions over others, a problem which Gallon highlights. I will continue to think about how these goals can specifically play out in my work.

Networking Peripheries Discussion

Chapter 1 Summary:

In the first chapter, Chan uses the local context of Chulucanas, Peru in order to illustrate tensions between the local and the global which come with a neoliberal focus on global capital. The city of Chulacanas recieved a DO (denomination of origin) from the Peruvian government, which is essentially an identifying trademark of certification for ceramics from the area. These ceramics are made in a pre-columbian tradition using locally-sourced materials, so they are highly sought after across the world.

However, along with this DO came people who were sent to help ceramics artisans in Chulacanas strategize for appealing to global buyers. As you might imagine, this involved convincing the local artists to be more competitive in price and more efficient in how they produced these ceramics. The artisans had to learn how to be savvy businesspeople as well as artists. Chan’s argument is nuanced, though, in presenting the effects of the DO. Though these events changed the artisans’ relationship to their work and one another, one thing to which she frequently returns is that many of the people who were helping local artists to make these changes have actually ended up being closely connected with Chulacanas and advocating for the artisans and their community.

Ultimately, the DO has helped the city’s trade in ceramics to flourish; new artisans flock there to work and make a name for themselves in striking deals with global buyers. From a purely economic standpoint, the program has been a success. Chan is dubious, however, about some of the effects of the DO program: global markets have had their impact on the local community (I highly suggest that you read Chan’s conclusions on 50-51) and possibly disrupted a community of practice. Because the neoliberal project assumes that people can succeed through their own effort if they are willing, this type of program has created winners and losers on a massive scale.

Discussion questions:

  1. How might we characterize the relationship between the local community in Chulacanas and the global market of buyers/collectors who are after these ceramics?
  2. What are all of the ways in which the DO and the global markets which come with it interacted with Peruvian and Chulacanas culture?