On September 2, 2009, I arrived in Wuhan, China to begin my Fulbright research on Chinese environmental public policy. Arguably the biggest city in the world that few have ever heard of, Wuhan is a 10-million person metropolis located in central China on the Yangtze River. As the only city occupying both banks of China’s longest river, its location on the Yangtze has long ensured its importance as a production and transit point connecting the eastern and western portions of the country. In recent decades, Wuhan has become particularly well-known as a steel and manufacturing center as well as an educational hub.
While in Wuhan, I studied China’s environmental policy through the lens of its policy on plastic bags. The inspiration for this seemingly obscure research topic was that on June 1, 2008, the Chinese government introduced a nationwide ban on the free distribution of plastic bags in retail outlets. According to this ban, any Chinese store that wanted to offer its customers a plastic bag would have to charge them for it. This policy’s introduction represented an important effort to reduce plastic waste in China and a means to promote environmental awareness. A “price tag” was literally going to be associated with material consumption involving plastic bags. My Fulbright research sought to evaluate the implementation, enforcement, and effects of this policy.
Thanks to the Fulbright Program, I had the opportunity to explore China’s application of this new environmental regulation firsthand. My research involved interviewing local shopkeepers and customers about their initial reactions to the bag policy, meeting with Chinese environmental experts (and discussing plastic bag usage in China with them), and collecting quantitative data and observational research about Chinese plastic bag consumption. By having a unique opportunity to be on the ground and “in-country,” I was able to witness firsthand how the government implemented its policy and the population’s response. Through my study, I have come to better understand and appreciate the practical implementation and enforcement limits associated with even the most well-intentioned Chinese environmental law.
People in Japan are polite. The traditions and history are rich. Efficiency is high. The bright lights of Tokyo cast a glow on the serene rock gardens and trickling streams that highlight the beautiful contradictions that resonate throughout the city.
Before I came to Japan, I was trapped in the A to B mentality that medical and/or graduate school tends to steer you towards. Having lived outside of this environment for the past 10 months, I can now look at this type of mentality objectively and see that it may not promote creativity or foster individual development. In my opinion, you need to stimulate new neurons to fire every day in order to come up with the ideas that will lead to important discoveries. This inside-out approach was once novel to me, but it is one I truly endorse now after my Fulbright experience in Japan. I feel so fortunate to be working on the first cross-cultural stigma study between Japan and the United States, specifically, comparing the levels of stigma associated with schizophrenia between the two cultures. The formal title of my projects is, “Found in Translation: A Cross-Cultural Comparison of Stigma Associated with Schizophrenia between Japan and the U.S.” and I am completing this research at the National Center of Neurology and Psychiatry in Tokyo. We are surveying hundreds of American and Japanese physicians, psychiatrists and psychiatric staff, as well as the general public, on their views of those suffering from schizophrenia. It has been an incredibly productive year and we truly hope that the results of our stigma study reach far beyond the pages of an academic journal. In the end, we hope that it will help advocate for those suffering from schizophrenia throughout the world, giving patients the resolve they need to adequately treat their illness.
Furthermore, I have been particularly impressed with the Fulbright conferences I have attended at the Japan -U.S. Educational Commission (which administers the Fulbright Program in Japan) concerning soft power, global relations and diplomacy, as well as talks given concerning the environment and climate change. Japan is a very diplomatic and conscientious country. To be a conscientious global citizen, I have learned that we cannot completely separate our lives from public policy or politics, the environment, other countries, technology and science. I believe these subjects to be imperative if we are to grasp the world’s future direction and to harness our individual potential to initiate progressive change. After all, it is when we open our minds to the global consequences of our actions that we can begin to understand that what we do today will affect future generations.
While living and working in Japan, I have met people from all walks of life. I feel so fortunate to have met so many interesting characters who have contributed to my overall impression that Japan is a wonder. Considering that I work at a psychiatric/neurological hospital, I encounter patients with schizophrenia (“togo shitcho sho”) and mental illness everyday. Moreover, I see patients with severe cases of epilepsy, brain retardation and rare genetic diseases as they try desperately to make their way down the hall. Each step for them is careful, calculated, and seems to take just as much courage as it does energy to execute. These people are my heroes, for they are alive and functioning in a world that may not be as considerate as it could be. The stigma, discrimination and shame that are often associated with such illnesses permeates all cultures and geographic boundaries, which is why it is a global problem to be solved and not one specific to Japan or the United States. We must understand – as scientists, physicians, and human beings – that a major part of healing and understanding brain pathophysiology resonates in comprehending the integration of nature with nurture. We often neglect the nurture aspect of this partnership, which is comparable to looking through a window at the world with the shades only half drawn. Seeing these people at the hospital and learning their stories reminds me that it is essential to open the shades completely to let the sunshine – or lack thereof – stream in.
It has been an incredible experience to learn more about the mental health system in Japan and to compare it with how mental illness is approached in America. I hope that the results of this first cross-cultural study on stigma levels between Japan and America concerning schizophrenia will elucidate ways in which we can help patients live life more comfortably and happily throughout the world.
Photo: Misty Richards, 2009-2010, Japan, with two fellow lab members at the National Center of Neurology and Psychiatry, researching both clinical and basic scientific aspects of schizophrenia.
I went to Iceland on my Fulbright grant to study the contemporary concept of landscape and how it is used in both industry and art. What I quickly discovered is that the landscape is a thread that runs through every fiber of Iceland’s being. Evidence of this was made clear upon first hearing a translation of the very well known Icelandic lullaby, Sofðu Unga Ástin Mín (Sleep My Young Love) by Jóhann Sigurjónsson (1880-1919). Another very apparent fact in Iceland is the landscape’s powerful presence. Mount Esja is a range that looms over Reykjavik and is also popular for day hikes. I hiked this mountain and saw views that look out over the vast sea in one direction, and back into the interior (a treacherous area, with very limited access) in another. Both dwarfed the city in size and power.
In collaboration with artist Benjamin Kinsley, my Fulbright project titled The Mothers of Mount Esja, involved working with six new Icelandic mothers singing Sofðu Unga Ástin Mín to their babies by the sea at the base of Mount Esja. When this haunting and highly descriptive lullaby is sung by the six mothers, the effect is both chilling and calming. Because the lullaby’s subject matter deals with the tragic decision to expose a newborn child to the harsh elements indigenous to the Icelandic landscape, we wanted to create a contemporary situation with these mothers in which safety and protection played against the tragic outcome described in the lyrics. Upon first arriving in Iceland, we noticed two striking things: there are a lot of young mothers, and babies are often left outside in the cold to sleep in their prams. These two cultural phenomena were part of the impetus behind this project.
In preparation for this project, we sought out moms who were willing to work with us under such harsh conditions as filming outside in the cold for several hours. We posted fliers and solicited help via the “Craigslist” of Iceland (www.barnaland.is, translation: babyland!). We received more volunteers than we expected and a lot of curious emails.
The mothers who worked with us were (below, from left to right): Brynja Guðmundsdóttír, Magnea Brynja Magnúsdóttir, Sif Heiða Guðmundsdóttír, Hlín Pálsdóttir, Thórunn Sóley Björnsdóttir, and Sigríður Kristinsdóttír.
These women not only provided their amateur, yet beautiful voices for the video (and patiently endured the cold), they also provided us with much insight into the two cultural phenomena we were chronicling. For starters, the babies slept peacefully throughout the entire filming. This was in part due to being sung to constantly for several hours, but they were also very warm inside their prams as we were later informed. They were covered head-to-toe in the softest lamb’s wool sleeping bags, tucked cozily inside layer upon layer of woolen blankets. The outside layer of the pram protects babies from the wind and rain.
“Why are there so many young Icelandic mothers?” we wondered. There is not a simple answer, and it may have a lot to do with the support and encouragement families receive from the government to pass on their genes. Because Iceland’s population is so small, every new Icelander counts!
The Mothers of Mount Esja, or the Mommies Project, as I fondly refer to it, was an experience that went beyond the final outcome of the video. Everything the project entailed, from the research, to soliciting volunteers, to the video’s production, was a cultural learning experience. Meeting and working with the mothers provided a platform to share experiences. The lullaby served as a comfort and a warning during the year as well. Its soft, soothing sound balanced out the hiss of the harsh winds common in Iceland. The lyrics framed how I would view the landscape for the coming months; listening for the “fissures that groan in darkness” as I visited the glacier during the long, dark winter, or noticing the black sand that “scorches” the green landscape. As lonely and isolating as the lullaby (and landscape, for that matter) can seem, one does not have to search long to discover the warmth and sense of community that Icelanders share.
My Advice for Fulbright Applicants in the Arts:
The most important things to keep in mind while preparing and presenting representations of your work is that your slides should be clear, consistent, and professional. This ensures that anyone viewing your slides will fully understand what it is that they’re looking at. Bad slides, whether they are blown-out or too dark will make or break an application. Take the time to prepare good slides. It’s worth it.
How to Prepare Clear Slides:
Avoid including unnecessary information (this is especially true for installations and sculpture – take a look at the room where the pieces are showcased and find what is extraneous).
Clearly and evenly light each piece (no glaring spotlights). Use a minimum of two lights pointed at 45 degree angles to each piece, parallel to the face of the camera.
Make sure the camera is in focus.
Use a tripod.
How to Prepare Consistent Slides:
Make sure the (color) temperature of the lights used to illuminate the works is the same for all pieces.
Check your slides on a well-calibrated computer screen (the color on laptop screens is incredibly unreliable).
Make sure the maximum pixel dimension is the same for all of your slides.
How to Prepare Professional Slides:
Set up a designated slide shooting area (either a blank, well-lit wall, or a large empty room).
Rent or borrow professional tungsten lights from a photo shop or studio.
Rent or borrow a professional SLR camera to take your slides. The photos will contain more information and allow you to obtain very nice high resolution images if you ever want or need to print them. Starting with high resolution images, and then reducing the size of the file later, will assure that you maintain high quality images.
Bracket your photos to assure the best exposure. There is nothing worse than whites that are blown-out, or shadows that show pixels.
There is always the option of hiring a professional photographer, but make sure they have experience shooting art works. They will know the process, but you must be there to manage all the details and to make sure that the work is handled carefully.
Always look at your work either on a projector or another computer. This will give you the opportunity to make corrections, if needed.
I hope this advice helps. Always remember to back up your work! If you keep one giant file containing your Fulbright project on your desktop, it will inevitably be deleted. Burn a disc or back up your work on an external hard drive periodically. Good luck!
Top photo: Jessica Langley, 2008-2009, Iceland (right, in red hat) with artist Benjamin Kinsley (left, in brown and green sweater), working with Icelandic mothers on The Mothers of Mount Esja project
My recent Fulbright experience led me to Spain for very scientific objectives. I went to research a disease known as Chytridiomycosis, which has proven to be a major threat to amphibian species around the world. Before my Fulbright grant, my long term study of alpine amphibian populations infected by this rapidly-spreading disease offered me important new insights into the disease’s ecological dynamics. Some of the most valuable and unexpected discoveries I made during my Fulbright experience, however, were not scientific nor were they found at my field sites. My most profound experiences came from close contact with Spanish culture in small towns that see few foreign visitors.
Spain abounds with historic villages in all of its regions: from the sunny and warm coasts of Andalusia to the mist-covered mountains of the Pyrenees. Each village has a distinct character, history and atmosphere. After moving from the urbanity of Madrid to these rural regions, I became hooked on everything “de pueblo” (from the village). This single Spanish phrase, though seemingly short and insignificant, denotes a myriad of qualities and characteristics about a region, its people and its landscape. For me, the descriptor always conveyed something positive. Romantic, pastoral landscapes boasting herds of sheep and long rows of grapevines serve as a quintessential “de pueblo” scene. Long, unhurried Sunday afternoon lunches in the company of close friends and family undoubtedly exemplify a typical “de pueblo” activity. A corner bar hosting a native clientele who hovers over wooden bar tops while snacking on cured ham and sipping a small glass of beer embodies the epitome a “de pueblo” atmosphere. Eating chorizo and cheese at ten o’clock in the morning is very “de pueblo.” My friend’s white-walled farmhouse in Andalusia’s olive country could be considered “de pueblo.” The narrow, winding cobblestone avenues enclosed by tile roofed and stone walled buildings in Segovia’s Jewish sector paint a scene that is definitely “de pueblo.” The cranky bartender at a rustic restaurant in an Asturian Mountain village who hesitatingly served me and a research colleague drinks was undeniably “de pueblo.” At once, this commonly used phrase suggests simplicity, authenticity, antiquity, family and a lifestyle not found in the city.
The most profound aspect of “de pueblo” life is undoubtedly the people. The closest friendships I made during my Fulbright grant were with people from small villages. These friends and their families often hosted fabulous meals in their homes. Over elaborate meals, I learned about Basque culture’s history, the increasing political and cultural divide between Catalonia and other areas of the country and many other interesting aspects of Spain’s rich cultural and political history. Simply stated, my most genuine and valuable education about Spain was instilled in a village setting. This unlikely cultural education embodies the Fulbright Program’s goals of promoting mutual understanding between nations and cross-cultural immersion. Learning does not only occur in an academic setting, but also in the world’s vast unknown regions possessing a diversity of cultures, each containing history and traditions not always found in a library. As I prepare to return to this lovely country after my Fulbright grant for further academic pursuits, one is likely to find me in a tiny, historic village enjoying a fruitful life that is “de pueblo.”
Photo: Dave Daversa, 2008-2009, Spain, and his co-researcher Saioa Beaskoetxea at one of their field sites in Penalara Natural Park located in the Sierra de Guadarrama Mountains outside of Madrid.
On September 2, 2009, I arrived in Wuhan, China to begin my Fulbright research on Chinese environmental public policy. Arguably the biggest city in the world that few have ever heard of, Wuhan is a 10-million person metropolis located in central China on the Yangtze River. As the only city occupying both banks of China’s longest river, its location on the Yangtze has long ensured its importance as a production and transit point connecting the eastern and western portions of the country. In recent decades, Wuhan has become particularly well-known as a steel and manufacturing center as well as an educational hub.
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