Lewis is a small place, but its story is immense. Four hundred and forty thousand years ago, ice, in places almost a half-mile thick, covered this land, turning the Outer Hebrides into something like northern Greenland today.
Stones of Lewis, Portals in Time, The New York Review of Books (2020)
Los Angeles, 1968. Everything in California is shiny, bright, and new. The parking lots and motels, the thrilling blinking neon, the unsuspected colors of night, and, in the wide-open mornings, the police sirens bouncing off the hillsides, the smog giving way to the gray-blue sky.
Muscovite, Public Seminar (2020)
It’s no accident that Roosevelt is depicted on horseback with an indigenous man and a Black man standing behind him. Today, the statue is a blunt reminder that the founding of this country 400 years ago is the intertwined story of African slavery and the dispossession and genocide of Native America.
Removing the Roosevelt Statue is Just the Beginning, CNN.com (2020)
The lesson from all this is to be as prepared as possible for the consequences of making arguments in public and to be ready to respond forcefully, as much to reaffirm the arguments as to assert that speech, online or in print, cannot be silenced.
Against Purity, Social Research: An International Quarterly (2017)
Stop. If you’re inside, go to a window. Throw it open and turn your face to the sky. All that empty space, the deep vastness of the air, the heavens wide above you. The sky is full of insects, and all of them are going somewhere.
Up, Up, and Away, Tomás Saraceno’s Arachnid Orchestra (2015)
Imagine for a moment that you are the beetle. Not the woman in the loft with the low-tech gadgets and the trippy helmet and the exotic pet and the minimalist website and the starring role in the multispecies art project. Imagine instead that you are the beetle.
Beetle Wrestler, Design and Violence, MoMA (2014)
As more and more research is demonstrating, “nonnative” is an ideological grab bag of a category whose members are varied in their impacts and diverse in their contributions.
Speaking Up for the Mute Swan, The New York Times (2014)
“This,” says Robinson, “is the airborne vessel on which the magician Bladud flew to London where he crashed on Ludgate Hill, the last stone of a circle that stood on the site of St. Paul’s. … This is the stone that Jack Cade, the Kentish rebel, struck with his staff when he took possession of the city.”
Foundations, Cabinet (2014)
A stone can endure, it can change, it can harm, it can heal. It can make you rich, it can make you poor, it can become an enemy, a friend, and a teacher. It can carry your memories and your dreams. It can build empires and bury cities. It can reveal the history of the universe. It can open and close the gates of philosophy. It can change the course of nature. It can change its own nature. It can empty the world of time.
Twenty-five Years is a Long Time, Cultural Anthropology (2012)
The anti-immigrant sentiment sweeping the country, from draconian laws in Arizona to armed militias along the Mexican border, has taken many Americans by surprise. It shouldn’t—nativism runs deep in the United States.
Mother Nature’s Melting Pot, The New York Times (2011)
Jews are still struggling with the identifications bequeathed by the Nazis, damned to judge and be judged in terms of loss, guilt, trauma, and redemption. Hunted in the past, haunted in the present.
Jews, Lice, and History, Public Culture (2007)
Let’s start from the position that we have certain limitations in our capacity to understand, rather than that these other beings have limitations in their capacity to become us.
The Language of the Bees, Cabinet (2007)
Local knowledge may appear to valorise non-scientific ways of knowing, yet it is trapped by the not-universal of its local into reproducing and reifying the very taxonomy through which knowledges are hierarchised.
Intimate Knowledge, International Social Science Journal (2002)