URDT Vocational Training Institute Graduates

February 25th, 2009

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During my time working with URDT in Uganda, I spent some time speaking to, and photographing graduates from URDT’s Vocational Training Institute. It turns out a number of these individuals, upon completing their training, went into business for themselves, opening up store fronts along Kagadi’s main intersection. Moses, the proud owner of Kagadi Metal Works (pictured above) manages a staff of four to keep up with local demand for custom metal work (largely gates and doors). Beyond putting his URDT education to practical use, Moses, embracing the URDT philosophy of job creation over job seeking, has instituted a journeyman program at his business, where he has been able to train the next generation of metal workers, many of whom, for better or worse, have since left to open their own businesses.

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Another successful graduate of URDT’s Vocational Institute that I was able to visit, had just completed construction on a two room concrete building, the front of which serves as the headquarters of her seamstress business (the backroom serves as a kitchen and nursery). Upon completing her training at the vocational institute, she was awarded a small business loan and a refurbished foot-treadle sewing machine, which, in just over a year, she has parlayed into this new building sewing made-to-order school uniforms.

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Work Space

August 3rd, 2008

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I have always been fascinated by the places where people work. I am not as interested in their cubicles or offices, because element of these places tend to be sterile, toned down, made presentable for professional purposes. More, I love the places where creativity happens unabated, to where we sequester ourselves, and obsessively create. More often than not these are places where we go to get away, and their appearances and systems of organization are for us alone, no one else. I think this is part of my fascination: that these are intensely private and personal spaces, where we go to ask questions, investigate the world, get immersed in our work. Undoubtedly some part of my fascination is voyeuristic, in the gathering of visual clues, the imperfect, obstructed view when peering through a key hole. I am less interested in directly observing the artist in his space (in some ways, creativity is like the electron, it cannot be analyzed while it is in motion), than in investigating the visual resultants available when the space lies dormant. I want to see how an artist’s tools are laid out, how his books are stacked, how the ubiquitous spatter of paint radiates out from a central point, what he keeps near at hand no matter where he is: the tiny details that hint at the deeply personal actions that occur when no one is around.

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I see this work as an ongoing project, but for now, let me offer this first space: a garage where a father of a friend of mine is building a boat. She showed it to me off-handedly, (“Want to see my dad’s boat?”) but it felt scandalous; before ever shaking this stranger’s hand, I was afforded a deeply personal look into his psyche. I was drawn to the tools laid out just-so on mats, not in anal-retentive, impersonally, parallel lines, but gently spread out, each tool in its place, next to that whose function proceeds it. Like deciphering a cave painting, I felt like the meaning was just out of reach. I feel like I could almost tell for which project a particular mat was, as if a project is little but the sum of the tools necessary for its completion. Whereas I see my mind as a ball of knotted string, forever overlapping itself and full of dead ends, I imagine this man’s mind as a road map, each intersection labelled and proceeding toward an ultimate goal. Jotted yellow notepads offer a look at this organization, replete with lists, series, priorities. And everywhere, perfectly sharpened Number 2 pencils.

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We Did It!

September 21st, 2007

That’s right people. blog.nickorn.com is officially the NUMBER ONE hit for “deer-related signage” on google’s search of all the internets, and its due in no small part to each and every one(both) of you.

Bureacratic Maneuvering

August 21st, 2007

My new goal is to learn a little about the Thai political climate, that which is all around me, yet about which, until recently, I have remained entirely ignorant. In a recent interview, a prominent Thai political pundit reduced the whole thing down to three words: monarchy, military, and bureaucracy. Beyond yellow-shirt-Mondays, posters of the King and Queen flanked by waterfalls and pagodas in every house, and the song between the previews and the feature, the monarchy doesn’t really affect my everyday life. And, knock on wood, I have had little to no interaction with the military, beyond the just-finished-high-school city boys serving their mandatory 6 month service at rural road blocks (read: perennially adjusting their uniforms, ogling the odd attractive female passenger and taking photos with their camera phones of said female passenger). Bureaucracy, however, has been a different story.

Thus, the triumvirate may well better be described as leung(yellow in Thai), leering and lackadaisical, or else saffron shirts, shoddy soldiering, and sheets upon sheets of paper (how’s that for a scatagories score?).
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Japan=Best country for amazing deer-related signage

August 7th, 2007

There is lots to say about The Land of the Rising Sun, but first and foremost it must, as a country have the absolute best signage of anywhere in the world. Japanese people love maps, and it is because of this that I love Japanese people. Coming directly from a place where Navigating is based entirely on imaginary numbering systems and streets with no names, where the only people who are consistantly successful in finding there way are those people who have lived there their whole lives(and thus somewhat remiscent of Boston), and faced with the prospect of navigating a giant Asian metropolis, I was so relieved to find that the Japanese, as a people, respect the cardinal directions and are as cartographilic as I am(Also a word, why do you keep doubting me? Its not like I’m making words up).

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We took a trip to Nara, a small town near Kyoto, which has a whole bunch of deer roaming around, that are inexplicably tame, unless that is, you fall into the tourist trap of buying a package of special deer crackers, in which case you can find yourself, or your small child, at the center of some frantic, cracker-addict deer. Such a power phenomenon is this, that the default behavior of a person having recently purchased said crackers, is having the hands above their heads, and quickly shuffling backwards, being held up at horn-point. After that, its only a matter of time before the packet is tossed a fair distance away, as the purchasor makes a get-away, and after a few short moments the deer, thier fiending for crackers sated, lie down on the grass to wait for thier next score.

As a result, Nara can brag about having the highest concentration of undecipherable deer-related signage on the planet. Here’s a smattering. Any assistance in deciphering/taboo-esque translations, are encouraged.
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Check out the signs section for other great signs from Japan, and all over.

Burma: Worlds Apart

July 16th, 2007

I know how I am—when someone lectures on about wrongful arrests, limited freedoms, human rights abuses—I know that its wrong, and that it shouldn’t be that way, and perhaps some cursory feelings of empathy, but I can’t make myself get angry. The more impassioned the person gets, the more I remain distant, unable to connect the life I live with these abstract words; sympathy tends to fail when the assumptions one needs to make in order to place oneself in the shoes of another are too demanding, too large of a gap from one’s experiential reality. People tend to attack this dislocation with an anecdote (think politicians’ BS remarks about the conversations they just had with Jane Average in Anytown, USA about her husbands medical bills), but still it tends to be formulaic, and all too frequently continues. I think this is because invariably, the person speaking is him/herself removed, and the anecdote is not his/hers, and it is this second-handedness, this added distance from the events and suffering, that account for the inability to illicit sympathy.

I never thought about how frustrating it must be for these people: committed to a cause and charged with making that cause real for people like me, repeatedly facing disengagement. That being said, in sharing a situation in the world that I have encountered, and which needs to be known, I have thought a lot about getting past the above-mentioned hurdles. All I can do is attempt to relay the feelings and responses I felt to hearing such an anecdote first hand, in hopes of making the experience more real in its second telling… Read the rest of this entry »