• About
  • Contacts & Membership
  • Submission Guidelines
  • General Interest
  • Job Openings
  • Digital Publishing Column
  • Journal
    • Volume 1.1, 2005
    • Volume 2.1, 2006
    • Volume 3.1, 2007
    • Volume 4.1, 2008
    • Volume 5.1, 2009
    • Volume 6.1, 2010
    • Volume 7.1, 2011
    • Volume 8.1, 2012
    • Volume 9.1, 2013
    • Volume 10.1, 2013
    • Volume 10.2, 2014
    • Volume 11.1, 2014
    • Volume 11.2, 2015
    • Volume 12.1, 2015
    • Volume 12.2, 2016
    • Volume 13.1, 2016
    • Volume 13.2, 2017
    • Volume 14.1, 2017
    • Volume 14.2, 2018

Hortulus

~ The Online Graduate Journal of Medieval Studies

Hortulus

Tag Archives: conferences

CFP: Hortulus-sponsored session at Leeds IMC 2016

25 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by hortuluseditors in Call for Papers, CFP

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

call for papers, CFP, conferences

Hortulus-sponsored session, International Medieval Congress at Leeds, 2016

Gender at the Feast

The roles of women and of gender in the Middle Ages have received particular attention in recent years with invigorating studies across multiple disciplines. Medieval women, such as Margery Kempe or Christina of Markyate, have been brought to the forefront in the minds of medieval scholars and questions of female agency and gender roles have been given new scholastic importance in medieval circles.

Keeping in mind the theme of the 2016 Congress this session seeks to turn the focus of gender to the specific topic of feasts and feasting. This session will examine how gender roles and gendered objects affected the preparation, celebration, ceremony, patronage, and perception of feasting in all strata of medieval society. The session follows the theme of our Fall, 2016 issue of Hortulus, ‘Gendered Spaces’, and we hope to be able to publish in that issue some of the papers delivered in this session. As our journal mission is to support the professionalization efforts of graduate students, the session is organized, presided over, and comprises papers given by current graduate students.

Welcome topics include, but are not limited to:

  • Roles of women and female religious orders at feast times.
  • Gendered objects and their uses in times of celebration or feasting.
  • Defining gender roles within the process of celebration.
  • Gendered spaces pertaining to either the secular dining hall or the physical religious environment at feast times.

Abstracts for 20 minute papers and brief bio or CV to Dustin Aaron (dustin.aaron@courtauld.ac.uk / dustin.aaron1@gmail.com) by September 20, 2015.

Advertisement

General Interest Column: Lucy Barnhouse on “The Medievalist Abroad: Widening the Conference Circuit”

31 Sunday May 2015

Posted by hortuluseditors in General Interest Column

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

conferences, General Interest, graduate student life, interdisciplinary medieval studies

The Medievalist Abroad: Widening the Conference Circuit

          Conferences can be bane or blessing or both, depending on factors ranging from one’s teaching schedule to where one’s degree of extroversion. The atmosphere of collegial exchange at a good conference is one I find invigorating, even if it’s usually savored through a haze of over-caffeinated exhaustion. I confess, though, that process of applying for conferences is one I’ve often faced with dread. I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time poring over the annual calls of prestigious conferences, wondering how to fit my current research under the umbrella of a given topic. Time spent doing research in Europe forced me out of these bad habits, through forcing me out of the North American comfort zone of the Kalamazoo-plus circuit. I started searching CFP listings by location and date, or by keywords like “medicine” instead of “medieval.” Exploring these new conferences, I discovered a counterintuitive truth: presenting at conferences where medievalists were in the minority both stimulated my writing process, and resulted in stimulating feedback.

During the past summer conference season, I had my first experiences of attending conferences where I was one of very few medievalists. I found these conferences—on historicizing security, on the history of medicine, and on urban history—helped me hone valuable skills. This process began even before I attended the conferences themselves. Writing abstracts—and papers—helped me think about my topic in new ways. For instance: how might my work on medieval leprosy contribute to a conference on “(In)visibility, (In)security, and Gender in Historical Perspective?” Is “Healthscaping Pre-Modern Cities” the conceptual frame I never realized my fourteenth-century property disputes needed Preparing to speak on how one’s own work relates to such broad topical themes or theoretical frameworks provides a great excuse for delving into secondary literature.

Such research is something that I, at least, find perpetually slipping down my to-do list. Conferences not only imposed a deadline for doing it, but a purpose, in giving me a shared vocabulary with non-medievalist scholars. In my case, presenting research on a late medieval leper hospital to an audience of historians, sociologists, and scientists provided an opportunity for reading up on legal anthropology. It also opened my work to the bracing questions of an audience with no assumptions. Writing for an audience with no background knowledge forced me to sharpen my central ideas, making them clear enough to be concisely expressed. Presenting for an audience primarily made up of non-medievalist scholars means there is no chance for the room to get caught up in fine points of source analysis or historiographical controversies. There are, of course, times when a room full of people ready to talk through a coffee break about the semantics of Old Norse or the fine points of a liturgical procession is just what is wanted and needed. But participating in other conversations proved a salutary exercise.

I found it refreshing and stimulating to discover how scholars with very different sources are engaging with similar—or different—problems and questions. Topical conferences on medical and urban history proved very educational for me. I spent a lot of time listening… and taking copious notes that I’ve since used in preparing and teaching classes on modern Europe. I also found myself engaging in unexpectedly familiar conversations. It turns out that historians of hospitals in the seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth centuries are also dealing with debates over the moral quality of patients, and tensions between private charity and public funding. The ways in which these questions have been debated in the medieval historiography are often tied to broad narratives about the Middle Ages, and finding them outside it felt very liberating.         Conferences sponsored by umbrella organizations can also be especially good opportunities for workshops and networking. The conference of the Society for the Social History of Medicine even included a workshop designed for graduate students and early career researchers (more of this, please, conference organizers everywhere.) At the same conference, panels with papers on pre-modern topics brought the medievalists together in bunches, throwing together thirty or so people from multiple disciplines and career stages with the shared interest of medieval medicine. This proved a shockingly efficient method of facilitating the exchange of contacts and citations with other graduate students, and of getting into conversations with established scholars who might have been mobbed—or at least nervously avoided by me—at an all-medievalist conference.

My summer of interdisciplinary love helped sharpen my own sense of what makes my research distinctive, and what connects it to the questions others are asking. It also built my confidence in presenting that research to non-specialist audiences, an experience I’m glad to have had before going on the job market. All of the steps of the conference process—from brainstorming to reception—proved helpful, in slightly different ways than they are when the expected conference is made up primarily of medievalists. Being forced to approach my own topic from a variety of perspectives was an exercise that made a pleasant change from obsessive tinkering with paragraphs and anxious contemplation of chapters. I’ve since presented for an audience of scientists, humanities scholars, and the interested public, and have more presentations to lay audiences scheduled. I’ve also become something of an evangelist for presenting at conferences not designed by and for medievalists. It provides an opportunity to participate in new conversations, to make new friends… and to communicate to others what’s so great about the Middle Ages, asserting that we belong in these larger conversations too.

Lucy Barnhouse

Lucy Barnhouse is a Ph.D. candidate in the History Department of Fordham University, New York. Her dissertation, “The Hospitals of Mainz: Legal Privileges and Social Functions,” examines the effects of canon law on the development of late medieval hospitals. She spent the academic year 2013-14 in Mainz as a Fulbright Scholar, doing archival research, and has presented the results of this research internationally. Her work focuses on how the legal status of medieval hospitals as religious institutions influenced the place of hospitals, including leper hospitals, in the religious and social networks of late medieval cities.

The Kids Are Reading Chaucer

20 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by hortuluseditors in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

conferences, exhibitions and events

Review by A.W. Strouse
Department of English, CUNY Graduate Center

At a recent symposium of the BABEL Working Group, I remembered something that Bob Dylan says in the 1967 biopic Don’t Look Back. The symposium aimed to rethink the boundaries between artistic creation and scholarly knowledge, to combine academic knowledge with a little rock ‘n’ roll. Although the two are not necessarily opposed, they clearly are in Dylan’s mind. Asked if he’s ever read the Bible, he says “I may have skimmed through it,” and somehow he manages to keep a straight face. Too cool for school, Dylan pretends he’s an illiterate fool—a posture that is necessitated, apparently, by some glitch in the matrix of the socio-cultural time-space continuum: ever since Bede’s Caedmon, English poesie has been selling the myth that the poet must be a know-nothing. (Caedmon, according to Bede, could not sing like the other monks, and so he went out to sleep in the stable. Struck by divine inspiration, a dream-angel teaches him to compose verse.) Dylan’s “I may have skimmed through it” is the Caedmon theory of poetics: these fables try to teach us that artistic making and scholarly knowledge have nothing to do with one another.

Of course, scholars and aesthetes know full well that knowledge and enjoyment are inseparable: clearly Dylan is familiar with the Bible. Artists do need training, and scholarship is thrilling, creative work. But one’s credibility as an academic often requires self-denial of pleasure. And for Caedmon and Dylan, poetic authority comes from being stupid. As Allen Ginsberg puts it, “Businessmen are serious, Movie / producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.” The scholar ranks among the “serious”: pleasure never figures into the official metrics of academic professionalism. As far as I know, no Graduate School of Arts and Sciences offers a course in Professionalization and Personal Satisfaction, and the official rhetoric rarely endorses soul-formation or titillation. Efficiency and “academic excellence” mark the bottom line. As Christopher Newfield says in Ivy and Industry, “academics are neither artists nor bureaucrats but both at the same time”: we are vexed by an oppressive double-consciousness, trying to produce humanist work but measuring ourselves according to anti-humanist standards (215).[1] Or, as Stanley Fish so graciously puts it: “Save the world on your own time.” (I say nothing about the millions of adjuncts who live in academia’s flowerpots under the light of five hundred PowerPoints.) But if art and critique are the opposed terms of our current condition, then who better to help us than the great poet and bureaucrat Geoffrey Chaucer?

Today, a vanguard of radicals and misfits is turning to Chaucer (and to the medieval generally), looking to form a rapprochement between the dream-angel of individual talent and the monastery of academic tradition. You’ve probably already heard about the BABEL Working Group: a ragtag band of merry pranksters and philologists, BABEL is an interstellar Raft of the Medusa, patched together from the ruins of the postmodern university, a make-shift escape-pod sending out distress signals (and mating calls) to other Gonzo medievalists. This September, BABEL came together at the CUNY Graduate Center for the second in a pair of symposia on the “Critical/Liberal/Arts,” organized by J. Allan Mitchell, Julie Orlemanski, and Myra Seaman, with help on the ground in New York City from the GC’s Steven Kruger and Glenn Burger. (For the organizers’ manifesto, see http://babelsymposia2013.org/.)

Participants experimented with new forms of artful and critical expression, making art critically, doing critique artistically, and practicing all manner of liberality, with the largesse and romanticism of an Arthurian knight.

  • Ammiel Alcalay, initiator of the Lost and Found Project and beloved hero of poets/medievalists everywhere, spoke about the need to bridge creative writing with a “little history.” About transgressing disciplinary boundaries, Alcalay said: “Sometimes you start out having an affair, and pretty soon you want to move in together.”
  • Mashing up video and remixing critical theory, Jamie Bianco did to the stale genre of the conference talk what Hurricane Sandy did to Brooklyn, and then calmly receded. She tenderly told us about the need to save our garbage.
  • Eleanor Johnson descended like Boethius’s Lady Philosophy. She read some of her new poems about toads, and she suggested that scholars might engage in “parallel play”—that is, we should try to write like the texts we study. (Your assignment, dear reader, is to write a Boethian prosimetrum for your next article.)
  • Bruce Holsinger, doing some parallel play of his own, read from his A Burnable Book. As if Raymond Chandler had written the Domesday Book, Holsinger’s novel, starring Gower and Chaucer, explores the relationship between bureaucracy and art, poetry and regicide.
  • Henry S. Turner reminded us that the “corporation” has existed since at least the medieval period. Looking into this history, Turner wagers, might be our best shot at staying alive as humanists while the university becomes more and more corporatized. Turner’s current research involves incorporating people into his Society for the Arts of Corporation.
  • Grooving to the beat of this year’s hit single, the Digital Humanities, Michael Witmore gave the data mine a new spin: he pointed out that the digital is “fuzzy”—there’s space for us to play within new computerizing methodologies.
  • Marina Zurkow and Una Chaudhurl helped everyone make friends with global climate change, using a pedagogical approach inspired by the Buddhist profession of compassion. Technologies like compassion, meditation, and the koan offer a new way to connect the intellectual and the spiritual.
  • The Hollow Earth Society, in a hilarious, para-academic performance piece that remixed the discourses of university administration and satirized post-structuralist science, proved that slime mold has colonized the university. If you don’t believe it, you might already be a slime mold.
  • I wondered aloud if Sir Orfeo is a secret model for the critical/liberal/arts. It is: the Middle English Orfeo, unlike his Classical counterpart Orpheus, retrieves his beloved from hell in a way that validates a romantic poetics of historiography.

Proceedings will be printed in a special issue of postmedieval in 2015. By that time, we’ll have already translated the entire corpus of Verso books into rhymed couplets, and sneaked the poems of the Alliterative Revival behind the lines of all NSA firewalls. The future of the critical/liberal/arts is coming, and it’s going to get medieval.


[1] The academic profession, for Newfield, is a mash-up of craft-labor ideals and corporate management. Influenced by corporate models of administration during the late nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century, the university “yoked personal relations to explicit, impersonal procedures, procedures which treated individual exceptions as anomalous. Official authority arose from the office rather than from the person. This person, in theory, functioned through his or her specialized expertise. He or she held personal power to the degree to which expertise fit with the larger structure” (78). Our knowledge, through corporate management, becomes disembodied and impersonal—data for the administrative accounting office. This causes a kind of “double-consciousness” that prevents academics, and the middle class that they train, from realizing political agency (215). One could argue that C. Stephen Jaeger says something similar about pre-modern education in his enviable The Envy of Angels: Cathedral Schools and Social Ideals in Medieval Europe, 950-1200. Jaeger shows how the medieval university is born out of a conflict between the body and the text.↩

Navigation

  • Contacts & Membership
  • About
  • Submission Guidelines
  • Journal
    • Volume 1.1, 2005
    • Volume 2.1, 2006
    • Volume 3.1, 2007
    • Volume 4.1, 2008
    • Volume 5.1, 2009
    • Volume 6.1, 2010
    • Volume 7.1, 2011
    • Volume 8.1, 2012
    • Volume 9.1, 2013
    • Volume 10.1, 2013
    • Volume 10.2, 2014
    • Volume 11.1, 2014
    • Volume 11.2, 2015
    • Volume 12.1, 2015
    • Volume 12.2, 2016
    • Volume 13.1, 2016
    • Volume 13.2, 2017
    • Volume 14.1, 2017
    • Volume 14.2, 2018
  • General Interest
  • Job Openings
    • Co-Editorship (Junior)
    • Assistant Editorships (4)
  • Digital Publishing Column
  • The Reliquary Triptych, the Arms of Christ, and the Visual Language of the Relic Thesaurus ca. 1160–By Julia Oswald
  • Fortress of the Free Mind: The Contemplative Nature of Personal Liberty in Early Anglo-Saxon Monasticism—by William Tanner Smoot
  • BOOK REVIEW: The Eufemiavisor and Courtly Culture: Time, Texts and Cultural Transfer—Review by Heidi Synnøve Djuve
  • BOOK REVIEW: 
Kungamakten och lagen. En jämförelse mellan Danmark, Norge och Sverige under högmedeltiden (Kingship and Law: A Comparison between Denmark, Norway and Sweden in the High Middle Ages)—Review by Beñat Elortza Larrea
  • IMPERIUM ET CREDO: Frankish-Byzantine Rivalry over Leadership of the Roman-Christian Credo-State in the Ninth Century–By Elijah Wallace
  • Letter from the Editor
  • “Caterpillars of the Commonwealth”: The Material and the Political in Ricardian Nature Allegories–By Allen Fulghum
  • Troilus’s Future: Perspectives on Futurity in Troilus and Criseyde–By Tyler Jones
  • Reform and the Welsh Cistercian Houses: Colonialism and Postcolonialism–By Frank Lacopo
  • “Fully His Entente”: The Allegory of Chaucer’s Pandarus—By Kayla Shea
  • Call For Papers: Fall 2018 Themed Issue
  • Letter from the Editor
  • BOOK REVIEW: 
Walter Map and the Matter of Britain—Review by Thomas Sawyer

Twitter Updates

  • Call for Participants! ICMS 2020 'Graduate Student Publishing: A Roundtable on Publishing for Graduate Students and… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 3 years ago
  • We are now accepting applications for both the Junior Co-Editor position and 4 Assistant Editorships. Applications… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 3 years ago
  • Hortulus: The Online Graduate Journal of Medieval Studies welcomes submissions for Spring 2019 Open Theme issue. Su… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 4 years ago
Follow @hortulusjournal

RSS Feed RSS - Posts

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • Hortulus
    • Join 126 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Hortulus
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar