31 Oct 2004
I’ve been absolutely amazed this evening by what can be achieved by a non-technical user with The GIMP as a creative tool.
Kim Pounder is a remarkable artist when equipped with pen and paper, as those who know her may be aware. Those who aren’t, I’d advise visit her gallery some time. You’ll note a handful of coloured works in there, amongst the sketches and black and white art: this is attributed by her to a lack of software (for the purposes of colouring and shading).
Kim isn’t Linus Torvalds. She’s moderately computer literate, but not any more so than most. If nothing else, I thought it would be a great usability experiment to suggest she use The GIMP for editing and colouring her artwork digitally, instead of recommending the typically accepted software, Photoshop or Illustrator. Essentially, financial reasons meant that neither application was a viable option for her, and I wasn’t about to advocate piracy.
At this point, I recommended The GIMP to her, and offered download links… which, for whatever reason, weren’t working for her. So I downloaded The GIMP and GTK+ packages for Windows, burnt them to CD (haha, no, I didn’t bother with including the program source code! Kim, you’re most welcome to the source code if you desire it — there, GNU compliance!), and physically gave it to her. A few days later, not only has the application been installed and configured (those of you who have installed The GIMP recently may recall a screen DPI calibration utility which must be negotiated), she’d also managed to use the tool to colour, using an airbrush, the “Woodland Fae” illustration.
Take that, those who condemn the usability of Open-Source applications! I’ll admit it’s not up to the same interface standards as those of Adobe, but then this project doesn’t (to the best of my knowledge) have any full-time sponsored employees working on it, either. Oh, yeah, and it’s free.
The GIMP is the GNU Image Manipulation Program. It is a freely distributed piece of software for such tasks as photo retouching, image composition and image authoring. It works on many operating systems, in many languages.
The GIMP for Windows may be downloaded from http://gimp-win.sourceforge.net/ free of charge. Unix binaries and source code archives are available directly from the official website of The Gimp, http://www.gimp.org/.
31 Oct 2004
An essay. 1992 words. My standard Creative Commons license applies — this means attribution is required, and you aren’t legally permitted to republish this as your own work (yes, even for non-commercial reasons such as school).
How are the concerns and values of Ibsen’s play established in Act 1?
Henrik Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House, seeks to criticise the values of the society in which it is set. This criticism is established in the opening act of the play, and further developed throughout (culminating in the active rejection of these values by Nora in the closing scene). From the outset, Ibsen’s work identifies several key values which are of concern, in order to address these at a later point.
The viewer is presented first with the character of Nora Helmer entering from “the outsideâ€, dressed in outdoor attire: this is the first and only time the viewer is aware of Nora having been outside the house in the entire play, with all action taking place in the constraints of the set defined by Ibsen as “A room, comfortably and tastefully, but not expensively, furnished.†The set itself is used to establish an environment of comfort, with some degree of irony: what is now a scene of domestic living, becomes synonymous with a prison for Nora, as the story develops.
Upon first entry to the set, Nora is seen standing in the doorway, paying a porter a krone – although he requests only fifty øre (half a krone) – for carrying a Christmas tree and a basket. Whilst “tips†or gratuities of this kind may have been conventional and possibly even required by the expectations of society at the time, a reader in a more contemporary culture (especially in a country such as Australia, or non-European nations where such an expectation does not exist) may perceive this as reflective of Nora’s “spendthrift†nature, which her husband Torvald Helmer is constantly critical of.
Perhaps more significantly, the juxtaposition of Christmas and all that entails for the family of this play (a tree, gifts, etc.) with payment and commerce may be viewed as exemplifying the values held by the society in which Nora and Torvald live their lives: indeed, there is a complete absence of spiritual or religious references regarding Christmas or any other event which occurs in the play (though some may argue Torvald’s condemnation of his wife in the closing scene stems from “Christian†values; indeed, he criticises her for having “no religion, no morality, no sense of dutyâ€). Torvald is still working in his study, so committed to his work that this is being done at home, even on Christmas Eve – “I must make use of the Christmas week for [work], so as to have everything in order for the new year.†The values of society in which they live are such that numerous visitors at this time (with the exception of Doctor Rank, whose visiting is as a friend, as opposed to a business acquaintance) appear with an agenda not purely social, but motivated by something pertaining to work or employment.
Not only the character of Nils Krogstad, but also, to an extent, that of widowed Mrs. Kristine Linde – the motive for her appearance is not entirely apparent to the audience, although the outcome of her visit is key to creating conflict leading to the revelation of Krogstad’s agreement with Nora; her appointment to the position in which Krogstad was previously employed is the catalyst for further plot development in this play. The conversation between Mrs. Linde and Nora is focussed on financial affairs, with all personal references bound to a need for security in a financial manner, or in accordance with other values of the period. Whilst at the beginning of this dialogue Nora asserts that “today I won’t be selfishâ€, she comes to speak of her “selfâ€, and all that entails: financial security, her husband, and her children.
In this, Ibsen’s play criticises society as focussed upon financial security and the acquisition of wealth first and foremost, with family and friends taking second place, and religion somewhere in the distance – something to provide a loose set of (patriarchal) values, and an impression of self-righteous morality.
It is with no degree of subtlety that Henrik Ibsen contrasts the characters of Nora and Mrs. Linde at the beginning of their dialogue: It is established that Mrs. Linde has been widowed, with a man she did not love dying and leaving her precious little behind, as his business collapsed with his own death – in this, there is a parallel established between the sustenance of life and work, a value echoed in other aspects of the text, too. Deprived of security (which may be achieved, so it is implied, only through marriage to a male preserver – Torvald describes himself in the closing act as having “broad wings to shelter [her] underâ€), Mrs. Linde is forced to work for a living of her own, and is at this time unemployed.
Ibsen changes the focus of dialogue so quickly that his audience is left in a state of shock: one moment, Nora is declaring “That must be awfulâ€, and sympathising with Mrs. Linde’s plight, yet in the next breath speaks of her own three children, immediately following Mrs. Linde’s declaration that she has none, and no-one to live for.
At this stage, Nora claims she does not wish to be selfish, and requests Mrs. Linde speak of herself first: until she begins on a tangent of her own, saying “just one thing†first. “Just one thing†is to detail the success of Torvald, and the new position of financial security in which they find themselves. Indeed, the impression created is near-comic in nature: one moment, the audience is faced with a dour-faced Mrs. Linde, and sympathising Nora at her side – the next, Nora is declaring how fortunate she is, in a circumstance with which Mrs. Linde is only able to look upon with a degree of remote longing – “Yes; at any rate it must be delightful to have what you need.†– to which Nora replies “No, not only what you need, but heaps of money- heaps!â€.
Nora says “Oh, Christina, I feel so lighthearted and happy!†in regard to her situation at the beginning of the play. There exists something of an argument over the semantics of the term “happy†as applied in this play: it is felt by some that nuances of language representing different degrees and types of “happiness†have been lost in some translations of Ibsen’s original play, such that the meaning of terms in the original RiksmÃ¥l (Traditional Standard Norwegian), Lykkelig and Lystig, are used inappropriately in some translations: the former term means “happyâ€, whilst the latter is better translated as “gay†(or, given the contemporary connotations that word now carries, “cheerfulâ€) – associated with a more fleeting and temporary emotion.
The significance of this, of course, is that Nora’s “happiness†(translated as such in both McLeish’s translation, Archer’s translation, and the translation used by the Project Gutenberg public domain text), as an profound state of mind, and not a fleeting emotion, is felt as a direct result of the financial situation in which she is in by virtue of her husbands position at the bank. This is perhaps the clearest way in which the importance and value of materialism to the society in which the play is set is conveyed in the opening act of this text.
There is some degree of irony, then, in the cause of conflict within this text being directly associated with that which is so valued: whilst materialism is the prevailingly good and a cause of “happinessâ€, embracing this same materialism (with charitable objectives, no less) is the ultimate cause of complication and demise – if demise is an appropriate term for the resolution of this text.
In the opening act, Ibsen establishes Nora’s motive in forging her deceased father’s signature: this is done in order to sustain her husband’s life, and spare her dying father from “anxiety and care†which would have stemmed had he been aware of her husband’s illness. It is said by Krogstad that “the law cares nothing about motivesâ€, and claims that the cause of his own social demise was “no more or nothing worse†than the actions taken by Nora. In this, her actions are condemned along with his, and the stage is set for her inevitable “fall†into the same social disrepute which Krogstad now inhabits: her husband confirms as much later in the same act, claiming what was done was done out of necessity, yet later denied – and this, creating a “poisonous†climate for his children.
He goes on, attributing this poison to a “mother’s influence†– something upon which Nora reflects, and apparently accepts: immediately after this conversation ceases, she refuses to see her “little ones†which are begging to be let into the room.
A concern of this play established here is the notion of guidance by parental figures: this is also echoed in the closing act of the play, however the framework and grounds for later comment are established here, as the audience is presented with the three Helmer children being cared for by their nurse – the relationship between the children and Nora parallels that of Torvald and his wife. This serves as a dual criticism, both of the apparent lack of involvement between children and their traditional mentors, and also in likening the relationship between husband and wife (in this circumstance) to that between a parent and a child: Torvald’s continually refers to his wife as being “littleâ€, as to a child.
The belittling attitude adopted by Torvald towards Nora persists throughout the play, with his likening her to an object which is his possession – “You can’t deny it, my dear little Nora.… It’s a sweet little spendthrift, but she uses up a deal of money.†(emphasis added) – later, towards the close of the act, Torvald apparently takes some pleasure in saying to Nora “Aha! so my obstinate little woman is obliged to get someone to come to her rescue?†when she requests his advice: her motive in this is apparent to the audience (she wishes to placate her husband), and the advice required is trivial – this hints that perhaps Nora is capable of greater control and depth than previously thought: in the words of American feminist Emma Goldman, “Down deep in the consciousness of Nora there evidently slumbers personality and character, which could come into full bloom only through a great miracle—not the kind Nora hopes for, but a miracle just the same.â€
To the audience, Nora’s concern at this point is primarily for her husband and children: there is no notable sense of self in her consternation with regard to Krogstad’s threats. This is reflected not only in her past actions (specifically, the manner in which she concealed the source of funds for their holiday to Italy from her husband and father), but also in her immediate concerns – she recognises a threat from Krogstad, and responds by speaking of her husband: “If my husband does get to know of it, of course he will at once pay you what is still owing, and we shall have nothing more to do with you.†Her concerns are not for the implications for herself at any point in this first act. Later, when Torvald asserts that the cause of moral corruption is from the mother, Nora responds by shunning her children, in her fear of what she may do to them.
She believes her husband implicitly, not thinking to question him: she is, as the title of the play implies, a doll, stuck in a doll’s house, manipulated by others. The opening act establishes this environment, her domestic prison, and sets the stage for her inner turmoil and subsequent escape from the strictures and expectations of society in the closing lines of this play. Through the development of Nora’s character, and gradual revelation of “truth†opposing society, Ibsen annunciates his concerns and oppositions to accepted values, both in the opening act, and further throughout the play.
30 Oct 2004
I couldn’t find any easy answer to this question myself when I setup custom tags for commenting on this site a while back, and Indranil is trying to figure it out as well, so I figured I’d share a brief “how to” on the subject.
The default WordPress commenting tags allowed are a, abbr, acronym, b, blockquote code, em, i, strike and strong. For myself, and Indranil (and probably many other WordPress users), there is a desire to allow users more freedom in their commenting formatting: specifically, to allow the use of lists and list items.
Whilst this used to be possible with the (deprecated) my-hacks.php file, this is advised against as the “hacks” system has changed, and chances are that file will be gone in a few releases time. The easiest way to add permitted tags is to edit the file which does the processing, kses.php. Kses is described in the file header as being a “HTML/XHTML filter that only allows some elements and attributes” — and that’s what it does.
If you open this file, located in the wp-includes directory within your WordPress installation (full path to file should be /wp-includes/kses.php), and scroll down a little way, you should see a variable $allowedtags, with an array. (For me, it begins on line 17 of the file: yours may vary.)
By following the format tags are already listed there in, you can probably figure out how it works: for many, it’s just a matter of uncommenting the appropriate tags. I can’t recall if there are options for list tags in there already, I’m sorry: if you see lines which begin with
//'li' => array(), or
//'ol' => array(), or
//'ul' => array(),
then simply delete the preceding slashes (//). Save the file, and commenting with these tags is now permitted.
If the file didn’t include those commented out lines, then simply add
'li' => array(),<br />
'ol' => array(),<br />
'ul' => array(),
to the array, and save.
There you have it! Of course, it’s possible to permit attributes and the like — take a look at the anchor (a) part of the array for an example of that — but for lists, that’s mostly uneccessary (so far as I’ve seen, anyway).
29 Oct 2004
It’s been said previously that Ibsen’s set directives at the beginning of A Doll’s House simply don’t work. Just to prove them wrong (or possibly right!), I decided to block up a set from his directives, which, in the translation used by Project Gutenberg, reads as follows:
A room furnished comfortably and tastefully, but not extravagantly. At the back, a door to the right leads to the entrance-hall, another to the left leads to Helmer’s study. Between the doors stands a piano. In the middle of the left-hand wall is a door, and beyond it a window. Near the window are a round table, arm-chairs and a small sofa. In the right-hand wall, at the farther end, another door; and on the same side, nearer the footlights, a stove, two easy chairs and a rocking-chair; between the stove and the door, a small table. Engravings on the walls; a cabinet with china and other small objects; a small book-case with well-bound books. The floors are carpeted, and a fire burns in the stove.
From this, my sketch (which would probably work in most performance spaces, assuming they’re not too unusual — in which case, you should be used to having to butcher directives in order to get a working set!):
Of course, I’m completely unfamiliar with the design conventions of the period (speaking generally, not of stage and set construction), so chances are furniture details are incorrect, as (most likely) is the style of the stove (stage left) and various other elements in the room. Notably, this block and sketch have been worked from a translation of the original text, so some elements may be different or incorrect due to misunderstanding after translation: The McLeish translation (arguably far less eloquent and watered down!) dictates a number of things different — the most significant being the description of “a small table” (as above) instead as “a side-table”.
I’d chosen to ignore the directive to place that furniture behind the stove, simply because it was simpler not to, and I’d forgotten about the bookcase (besides, there aren’t any compelling reasons to follow this directive, if I were to follow the Gutenberg or Archer version only — “a small table” may be placed anywhere, however the McLeish translation states “a side-table”, which requires a wall…).
For the record, I’m perfectly well aware I can’t sketch, so don’t bother reminding me! Having said that, there seems to be a distinct lack of set designs around that adhere to Ibsen’s directives, so perhaps this may be useful to someone. Oh, and this is just about proving a point, anyway. ;)
