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  • The Story of Stopwords: Topic Modeling an Ekphrastic Tradition

    The Story of Stopwords: Topic Modeling an Ekphrastic Tradition

    The following paper was first presented on July 9, 2014 at DH2014 in Lausanne, Switzerland. The slides can be found here.

    The story I’d like to tell you today is about exploring hermeneutic spaces between poetic convention and artistic invention. It’s a story about the strict algorithmic logic of topic models confronted by the rich ambiguity of poetry to revise long-standing critical assumptions about the syntactic and semantic compression of poetry. It might even be considered a cautionary tale about how exclusively relying on close reading of texts diminishes our interpretive reach. The story I’m going to tell you features the critical tradition of ekphrasis—poetry to, for, and about the visual arts—as it unfolds through a digitally-enabled, critical deformance that occurs while preparing and modeling a corpus of 4,500 English-language poems with the latent dirichlet allocation algorithm, commonly called topic modeling. [Slide 2]

    The purpose of my story is three-fold: First, to demonstrate through a case study the influence of stopword removal on topic models of poetic corpora. Second, to suggest one way we may respond to the concerns of skeptical poetry scholars about the practical and methodological constraints of distant reading practices such as topic modeling. And, third, to reveal one way in which my understanding of ekphrasis has transformed through an active engagement with the formal constraints of distant reading practices. [Slide 3]

    The work I’m going to discuss today is part of a larger project in which I look at the critical and poetic tradition of ekphrasis, its genre definitions and conventions, as well as its treatment of women as active participants in a tradition of looking at and writing about the visual arts. In the twentieth and twenty first centuries, poetic engagements with the visual arts, in this genre called ekphrasis—have drawn from and reshaped a Western tradition of viewing, describing, creating, and narrating images. From W.H. Auden’s “Musée des Beaux Arts” to Jorie Graham’s “San Sepolcro,” poetic conversations between the visual and verbal arts are as active as they have ever been since Homer’s first description of the shield of Achilles in The Iliad (18.483-601). Likewise over the 20th century, our critical understanding of the genre has also evolved. For example, Jean Hagstrum’s 1950 book The Sister Arts describes ekphrasis as “pictoral” poetry, while New Critics Joseph Frank and Murray Kreiger adopt the term to describe the realization of an image through poetic form. More recently W.J.T. Mitchell in 1992 redefines ekphrasis as “the verbal representation of visual representation”—a move that signals a methodological shift away from a metaphorical comparison of the arts of poetry and painting toward a semiotic and cultural approach.

    Similarly, my own study addresses methodological challenges faced by scholars of ekphrasis as they consider its active tradition. As significant and transformative as Mitchell’s contributions have been, “Ekphrasis and the Other” is limited in ways that are difficult to ignore in today’s critical landscape. Specifically, Mitchell’s “Ekphrasis and the Other” is based on four poems by white, male either British Romantic or American Modernist authors:[Slide 4]

    • Wallace Stevens’ “Anecdote of a Jar”;
    • William Carlos Williams’ “Portrait of a Lady”;
    • John Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn”;
    • Percy B. Shelley’s “On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci in the Florentine Gallery.”

    In fact, whether it be in essay or monograph form, the most poems considered in any critical definition of the genre is 75; and of all of those collections, only a handful have included examples of ekphrastic poetry by women. So when Mitchell’s essay confidently concludes: [Slide 5]

    My examples are canonical in their staging of ekphrasis as a suturing of dominant gender stereotypes into the semiotic structure of the imagetext, the image identified as feminine, the speaking / seeing subject of the text identified as masculine.

    It’s difficult to read such a conclusion without some skepticism. While Mitchell’s and others such as James A.W. Heffernan suggest that the “treatment of the ekphrastic image as female other is commonplace in the genre,” numerous feminist scholars, such as Beth Loizeaux, Barbara Fischer, Jane Hedley, Anne Keefe, and Bonnie Costello caution us against the dangers of reading ekphrasis as an overly-determined gendered contest, suggesting that women in the 20th century write with a much more nuanced attitude toward the gendered dynamics of ekphrasis. However, moving beyond Mitchell’s description has proven difficult. The genre’s saturation with frequently used and gendered terms such as “see,” “say,” “look” and “still” ” – all associated with either a dominant male gaze or a still, passive female figure—complicate our access to other critical approaches at close distance.

    I came to this particular project, then, with an explicit intent to uncover methodological means for expanding the number of poems we can consider at one time, as well as a method for detecting latent patterns across texts that were perhaps to this point obscured from view. My project, Revising Ekphrasis, asks what opportunities distant reading practices, such as topic modeling, present scholars of ekphrasis as a means for casting the widest possible net to detect latent patterns across an increasingly diverse corpus of ekphastic poetry. [Slide 6] The Revising Ekphrasis dataset includes 4,771 poems (documents) from three kinds of poetic corpora: The American Academy of Poets, Poetry Daily, and print anthologies of ekphrastic poetry. The collection, breaks down in the following way: 2,466 from the American Academy of Poets website; 373 from Poetry Daily (2011 – 2012); 34 from a print anthology titled The Gazer’s Spirit by John Hollander; 79 poems discovered through Poets on Paintings: A Bibliography by Robert Denhem; 19 poems by Jorie Graham, Carol Snow, Barbara Guest, and Cole Swenson. I also lightly described the dataset as “ekphrastic,” “nonekphrastic” or “unknown” and discovered that about 425 could be identified as ekphrastic.

    I chose topic modeling because critical treatments of ekphrasis often hinge upon perceptions that the genre uses a higher ratio of words relating to “stillness” and words relating to “look” and “see” than other genres. Questions about recurring patterns of term across similar texts are excellent kinds of questions to explore with topic modeling in theory; however, topic modeling best practices suggest that words such as “see” and “say” and “still,” which are considered high-frequency, low-semantic value terms known as stopwords. [Slide 7] Stopwords, as you likely already know, are typically removed from the dataset entirely in order to improve the quality of the model’s results. So, I was confronted right away with a dilemma, could I still get useful, reliable, and interesting results from topic modeling if all the words considered to be most influential to the genre’s definition were removed?

    As a literary critic, the idea of removing so many words from a dataset of poetry seemed preposterous at first. Auden’s opening line, for example, “About suffering they were never wrong, / the Old Masters: how well they understood…” would be dramatically different if instead it read:[Slide 8] “suffering wrong masters understood.” Robert Browning’s pivotal line in “My Last Duchess,” [Slide 9]”she looked on, and her looks went everywhere” justifying the duke’s “silencing” of his wife would be removed [Slide 10] entirely from the text of the poem if I were to use the default preprocessing steps for MALLET, the software I chose to use for my topic modeling.

    In order to feel any sense of confidence about the kind of results I would be generating, I first needed to know how the “standard” stopword removal process would influence results, so I designed a test to see how the presence of stopwords affected the usefulness of the topic keyword distributions the LDA produced.  [Slide 11] Without introducing the LDA process in detail here, what is useful to know is that LDA is an algorithm that sorts through documents and creates groupings of words that are most likely to co-occur in similar documents. Topic modeling produces distributions of words, vocabularies, that are most likely to be found in similar documents, which are called “topics,” and these distributions frequently enjoy thematic coherence.

    My tests were designed to foreground the presence or absence of important ekphrastic words, such as look, see, still, and stillness in order to expose how their absence or presence influenced the topic model’s keyword distributions—those lists of key words that topic models spit out. I imported the entire text dataset into MALLET using four different stopword lists, then ran a 40 topic model. [Slide 12]

    In the first test, I skipped preprocessing altogether, leaving every word in tact in the corpus. In the second, I heavily edited the MALLET stoplist, so that only 200 words were removed from the dataset, including adverbs (accordingly, actually, and usually); articles (a, the); and conjunctions (and, or). The third test only slightly modifies the stoplist, removing 510 high-frequency words, but leaving words frequently associated with ekphrasis in the text to be modeled, such as: after, before, look, looking, looked, looks, said, saw, say, saying, says, see, sees, seeing. Finally, I ran the last test using MALLET’s default stoplist of all 538 words.

    Rather than focusing on the significance of the individual topics to the composition of the whole model, I want to focus on the composition of the topics themselves. For those unfamiliar with reading topic model results, the number on the far left represents the topic number, [Slide 13] in this case from 0-39 because 40 topics were requested. The next number, called a hyperparameter estimation, shows the model’s prediction as to how much of the collection might be described by each topic. Next, to the right of the hyperparameter estimation are the top 20 words associated with the topic in descending order from most likely to least likely called “keys”.

    When too many high-frequency words were left in the dataset, the signal-to-noise ratio became too high to interpret the word distributions. Results from the first test are almost too difficult to read. While literary scholars of ekphrasis have understood words such as “see” and “say” and “look” to be more prominent in ekphrastic poetry than in other poetic genre, the degree to which those words are more frequently used is not significant enough to create an “ekphrastic” topic. For example, [Slide 14] topic 8 is dominated by frequently used verbs: “was, and, a, had, were, that, in, it, to, said, but, could, did, came, when, saw, they, then, I, one.” While the topic includes the word “saw,” which might be interesting in terms of understanding ekphrastic poetry, in this case it does little to identify a trend regarding ekphrastic “looking.” Instead, the topics with the highest proportions, such as Topic 1 [Slide 15], represent distributions of articles and pronouns, offering little insight into the texts themselves.

    The results from the second experiment with about half the words from the MALLET stoplist removed were not much better, as the model again appears heavily influenced by pronouns and prepositions. [Slide 16] For example, Topic 2 forms around collective identities with key words including: they, their, them, are, in, by, men, children, on, have, women, up, themselves, see. Similarly, [Slide 17] Topic 22 combines pronouns with collective bodies, or many body parts, such as: our, us, ourselves, from, how, together, live, bodies, even, heads. Furthermore, despite what we might expect from the art-oriented vocabulary in topic 33 [Slide 18], which includes words such as “by, new, fear, modern, art, times, painting, museum, mr, order, model, artist, calm….”, none of the ekphrastic poems in the dataset are expected to draw more than 4% of their language from that topic. Parsing the exact relationship between the documents that draw heavily from Topic 33 is not a matter of nuance. Instead the group seems to be primarily created around the use of the word “by.” Having specifically included “by” in the model does seem to have made a difference in terms of locating and identifying poems in which “by” accompanies other kinds of words, many of which relate to other visual aesthetic objects, but sorting through the topic is about as useful as conducting any kind of close reading of the word “by” in a poetic collection. Consequently, the results are too disperse and don’t help us to answer the questions we hoped to ask about “stillness” or “looking.”

    Perhaps the most demonstrative and telling difference between the results in the third and fourth test results is that topics where the words “look,” “see,” “still,” “at,” and “before” are included the key term distributions, as they are in tests 3 and 4, where the concentration of ekphrastic poems in a single topic is more likely when the stopwords are removed than when they are left in.[1] In other words, in the third test, when words such as “see” “say” and “still” are left in, ekphrastic poems are less likely to draw from the same topic than in the fourth test where the words are removed. For example, in the third test, 88 ekphrastic poems were predicted to draw more than 1% of their language from Topic 13. [Slide 19] Topic 13, likewise, is the most dominant topic across the collection and is associated with a predicted 72% of the poems overall, meaning the words with the greatest weight in Topic 13—“night, at, light, dark, sun, sky, day, wind, sleep, still”—are likely to be found in at least 72% of the corpus as a whole. Other topics from which many ekphrastic poems draw more than 1% of their language include topics [Slide 20] 13, 15, 16, 19, and 29. In the end, by returning to the ekphrastic poems in the dataset and sifting through the topics they are most likely associated with, what becomes evident is that the presence of “see” and “saw” or “look” and “looked” in the dataset tends to decrease the likelihood that the topic model will cluster ekphrastic poems together.

    Unexpectedly to me, leaving words such as “still” and “see” in the dataset actually impeded topic cohesion among ekphrastic poems, detecting affinities between texts that had more to do with the tense of the word than with its semantic function. The fourth test, however, which uses MALLET’s default stoplist, yielded the most salient and viable results. For example, Topic 35 predicts that 7% of the collection includes language that draws heavily from the visual arts: color, stop, painting, art, artist, painted, model, perfect, cover, museum, wrong makes, reason, wanted, witness, change, completely, case, light, hope. The model’s prediction closely reflects our pre-existing knowledge from the metadata that approximately 5% of the database’s poems are ekphrastic. These findings are doubly relevant. First, by so [Slide 21] closely estimating the number of poems that draw from the language of visual art the model promises a higher likelihood of identifying the distributions of language my study wants to explore.

    Second, [Slide 22] by estimating slightly more texts draw from language closely allied to the visual arts, the fourth test offers the tantalizing possibility of discovery. Topic 11, which describes 64% of the entire corpus but is not the most heavily weighted topic in the model, contains 125 ekphrastic poems—almost 50% of the poems with the category tag, “ekphrastic.” Looking at the key terms associated with the topic 11, one might describe it as the “body part / physical feature” topic (eyes, back, body, face, hands, hand, head, arms, feet), (open, air, inside, world, small, close), and shade (light, dark, white, black). While it’s not inconceivable that ekphrastic poems draw heavily from the language of physical description, it seems interesting the degree to which this is the case. Interestingly, too, while most of the poems most closely associated with Topic 11 are ekphrastic, the poem with the highest estimated proportion of language from it is William Carlos Williams’s poem “Danse Russe”—which I had originally tagged “nonekphrastic.” Williams, however, wrote entire volumes of ekphrastic poetry, of which Pictures from Breughal is an example. The Ballets Russes, which transformed 20th century ballet, combined efforts across the fine arts. Visual artists, such as Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, and Juan Gris collaborated with Russian and French choreographers, producing sets, costumes, curtains, posters, and even programs for performances.[2] While there is no textual, or as far as I can tell critical, discussion of this particular poem in terms of the visual arts Williams’s prolific ekphrastic writing, his close relationship to visual artists, and the shared language between “Danse Russe” and more than half the other ekphrastic poems in the collection present a rich opportunity for further exploration, particularly in light of some critics’ assertion that Williams’ representation of female bodies differs significantly from his male contemporaries.

    Herein, lies the critical point that I’d like to leave you with today. It is the fourth test, the one in which the language seen as “conventionally ekphrastic” is removed that opens up future hermeneutic possibility. Akin to Stephen Ramsay’s suggestion in Reading Machines that algorithmic criticism is most useful to the literary scholar when it exposes the text to new hermeneutic potential, topic models’ are most useful to the study of poetry, and in this case ekphrasis, when the method exposes our scholarly assumptions through de-familiarization: [Slide 23]

    Literary-critical insight begins with a change of vision—what Wittgenstein called the “drawing of an aspect.” (Philsophical 194). Sometimes… the noticing is the result of some sort of overt manipulation of the text. We read out of order, we translate and paraphrase, we look only at certain words or certain constellations of surrounding the text. The text hasn’t changed its graphic content any more than the duck-rabbit changes between one’s seeing it one way one moment and another the next. But the text quite literally assumes a different organization from what it had before. Once a new aspect/pattern has been discovered, one immediately begins to test the viability of that pattern (47-8).

    In the case of these topic model distant readings, the radical extrusion of words considered vital to the identification of a poetic genre exposes rich opportunities to explore latent patterns and connections heretofore obscured by the over-presence of a limited vocabulary. Removing stopwords, a form of textual “deformance” akin to Jerome McGann and Lisa Samuel’s use of the term, leads us to wonder what more be gained by adjusting the aperture of our scholarly lens to reconsider the ekphrastic tradition at scale. The value of algorithmic criticism, brought to bear on the Revising Ekphrasis corpus, leverages what Ramsay describes as “a desire to use the narrowing forces of constraint to enable the liberating visions of potentiality” (32). Much in the vein of Matthew Jockers, Ted Underwood, Andrew Goldstone, Ben Schmidt, and Lauren Klein’s work with corpora of fiction, literary genres, literary criticism, and archival materials what the story of stopwords and the tradition of ekphrasis suggests is that a wealth of hermeneutic potential exists for in topic modeling for scholars of poetry, as well. [Slide 25]

    [1] The exact list of words included in test 2 that were not included in test 1 can be found in Appendix B.

    [2] “Visual Art and the Ballets Russes.” Ballet Russes Cultural Partnership. Boston University. Web. 16 Sept. 2012.

    Denham, Robert D. Poets on Paintings: A Bibliography. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2010. Print.

    Frank, Joseph. The Idea of Spatial Form. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1991. Print.

    Hagstrum, Jean H. The Sister Arts: The Tradition of Literary Pictorialism and English Poetry from Dryden to Gray. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Print.

    Hedley, Jane, Nick Halpern, and Willard Spiegelman. In the Frame: Women’s Ekphrastic Poetry from Marianne Moore to Susan Wheeler. Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press, 2009. Print.

    Heffernan, James A. W. Museum of Words: The Poetics of Ekphrasis from Homer to Ashbery. Chicago: University Of Chicago Press, 2004. Print.

    Hollander, John, and Various Authors. The Gazer’s Spirit: Poems Speaking to Silent Works of Art. 1st ed. Chicago: University Of Chicago Press, 1995. Print.

    Krieger, Professor Murray. Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. Print.

    Loizeaux, Elizabeth Bergmann. Twentieth-Century Poetry and the Visual Arts. 1st ed. Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Print.

    McCallum, Andrew Kachites. MALLET: A Machine Learning for Language Toolkit. N.p., 2002. Web.

    McGann, Jerome. Radiant Textuality: Literature After the World Wide Web. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Print.

    Mitchell, W. J. T. Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Print.

    Mitchell, W. J. T. Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Print.

    Ramsay, Stephen. Reading Machines: Toward an Algorithmic Criticism. 1st Edition edition. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2011. Print.

    Scott, Grant F. “The Rhetoric of Dilation: Ekphrasis and Ideology.” Word & Image 7.4 (1991): 301–310. Taylor and Francis+NEJM. Web. 12 Oct. 2012.

  • NodeXL: Social Network Analysis for Scholars

    NodeXL: Social Network Analysis for Scholars

    An article I wrote for ProfHacker at the Chronicle of Higher Education about using NodeXL for social network analysis came out yesterday.  This is the first article in a two-part series introducing academics to how one might begin evaluating his or her own online, scholarly social network.  In the first entry, I gesture to the ways in which social media network analysis in general and NodeXL in particular presents scholars with rich opportunities to learn more about the shape their participation in social media takes.  The second post, to be published Thursday, March 28, focuses more specifically on how NodeXL helps us make sense of conference backchannel conversation, taking as my example this year’s Twitter feed from the MLA 2013 convention.

    In the weeks ahead, I plan to write short tutorials for scholars on how to use NodeXL to better understand their use of social media for scholarly communication.  My hope is that more academics take the time to evaluate their scholarly networks and that the activity sparks more conversation about how social media participation could or should be considered as a contribution to scholarship and to consider how social media can be used to expand one’s scholarly audience.

  • Working the Digital Humanities: Uncovering Shadows Between the Dark and the Light

    Working the Digital Humanities: Uncovering Shadows Between the Dark and the Light

    Last July, I received a welcome email from Wendy Hui Kyong Chun asking if I would be interested in responding to her 2013 MLA “The Dark Side of the Digital Humanities” roundtable presentation in an extended conversation that would be published in a forthcoming special issue of differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies.  Wendy’s generous invitation led to what I feel to be a productive and convivial dialogue about the “cruel optimisms” of the digital humanities, and I’m delighted to be able to share widely the fruits of that conversation. I remain grateful to Wendy for asking me to participate and to Richard Grusin for the occasion that prompted this special issue, and I look forward to the conversations that follow.

    Under our author agreements with Duke UP, Wendy and I can publish our own PDF versions of the article published in differences. Therefore, I have chosen to post one such copy here.  Aside from oddities caused by reformatting such as pagination, hyphenation, capitalization, and other surface discrepancies, the text of this pdf should be the same between the two versions.  For the purposes of citation, you may choose to refer to Duke UP’s copy and page numbering.

    The full PDF of the article is available here: Working the Digital Humanities. An abstract is also available.

  • August Company

    August Company

    The station wagons arrived at noon, a long shining line that coursed through the wet campus. In single file they eased around the orange I-beam sculpture and moved toward the dormitories. –Don DeLillo, White Noise

    In the academic universe, the end of the summer signals the beginning of our new year. Explaining that parents and students on move-in day at College-on-a-Hill “feel a sense of renewal, of communal recognition,” DeLillo’s narrator also channels his own ritualized response to the start of the academic calendar—the communal quality of the “back-to-school” ritual reinforces a sense of belonging and welcoming, as well as nervous energy about changes to come.

    Personally, this year’s back-to-school ritual is different because this time I am one of the new arrivals. I am excited to say that I have accepted a Research Assistant Professor appointment at the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media (RRCHNM) at George Mason Univeristy. This academic year, for me, will bring a whole new set of projects, adventures, and challenges. For the last 6 months, I have worked on a part-time basis with RRCHNM as a project manager to produce the Institute of Museum and Library Services’s (IMLS) signature conference, WebWise. Working with Sharon Leon and Sheila Brennan for just these short months, I have learned an incredible amount about effective project design and development, and I’m looking forward to working with more of RRCHNM’s outstanding staff during what will be an exciting year for the Center.

    In the coming year, I will continue as project manager for the WebWise 2014 conference, but I will also be working on other Center projects. For example, I will be joining Joan Fragaszy Troyano as co-editor of the Journal of Digital Humanities, and will begin working more closely with the Digital Humanities Now and Press Forward projects. I have admired Press Forward’s efforts to reconsider how we collect, edit, and distribute scholarly gray literature, and I am looking forward to becoming part of future conversations there. Other projects I will be involved in include scholarly outreach for Zotero, one of the center’s most widely used and recognized software applications, and consultation projects at the Center as they come along.

    Joining RRCHNM promises to broaden my exposure to digital and public humanities projects, offering me opportunities to work with Alt-Ac professionals in the gallery, library, archive, and museum communities and to expand the scholarly audience for my own work revising the literary tradition of writing to, for, and about the visual arts to include women’s contributions to the genre.

    The Center has long been a place that I have admired for it’s collaborative production, for it’s cautious optimism about technology’s benefits for humanists, and for it’s dedication to making humanities research, scholarship, and records openly and publicly accessible. Furthermore, this August is particularly exciting as the Center is in the midst of its own transition. Soon, we will be welcoming our new director–Stephen Robertson. I’m enthusiastic about what this year will bring both for me personally as I acclimate to a new(ish) community and begin to take on more responsibility, but I’m also genuinely excited about becoming part of the future shape of such a well-established and important center in the digital humanities community.

  • What can DHers learn from improvisation and Tina Fey?

    What can DHers learn from improvisation and Tina Fey?

    This post was originally published on another version of this site and has been moved here.

    It’s no secret among the people who know me that I love Tina Fey’s book Bossypants.  Jason bought it for my birthday last year. I was approaching a “milestone” year and that point in my research where I felt like maybe I’d gotten myself into something I simply wouldn’t be able to pull off.  Knowing me as well as he does, Jason figured I needed a little humor, a little wisdom, and a little sense of female camaraderie to carry me through.  He suspected Bossypants would do the trick, and he was right.

    In her memoir, Fey draws on four rules of improvisation that she believes work well as guiding principles for her career.  I think they also make great lessons for digital humanists, and I think, in the end, they really describe quite well the kind of DHer I’d like to be.

     The first rule of improvisation is AGREE.  Always agree and SAY YES.  When you’re improvising, this means you are required to agree with whatever your partner has created.  So if we’re improvising and I say, “Freeze, I have a gun,” and you say, “That’s not a gun.  It’s your finger.  You’re pointing your finger at me,” our improvised scene has ground to a halt.  But f I say, “Freeze, I have a gun!” and you say, “The gun I gave you for Christmas! You bastard!” then we have started a scene because we have AGREED that my finger is in fact a Christmas gun.

    Now, obviously in real life you’re not always going to agree with everything everyone says.  But the Rule of Agreement reminds you to “respect what your partner has created” and to at least start from an open-minded place.  Start with a YES and see where that takes you.

    Don’t click away yet; humor me for just a moment.  What appeals to me in Fey’s description of the Rule of Agreement is a recognition that the impulse behind your colleague’s work comes from a good, or at least neutral, place.  It’s a momentary staving off of the impulse to assume that someone else’s scholarship is fashioned out of ignorance or apathy or even ill will or that the conversation was initiated in bad faith.  Agreement doesn’t have to be about value: it’s not even about accuracy or support.  The Rule of Agreement is a social contract to respect the intellectual work of your peers.

    To incorporate the first lesson of improvisation into digital humanities practice (and many if not most practitioners do this already) means to respect that there was intellectual work, time, and experience that went into its creation, and that we value the time, attention, and experience of our peers enough to approach it first with a willingness and openness to its value and its potential contribution to scholarly conversation.

    If, as most people who write about the field seem to agree, digital humanities work thrives on collaboration and a vital intellectual community, then the success of that social contract begins with an impulse to respect each other’s work.  Perhaps, after this initial scene Fey describes, the first speaker tosses the “gun” aside screaming, “Help me! I was put up to it by the evil Dr. Doofenshmirtz!” or the second speaker decides to kiss and thereby disarm, the first.  The conversation can change without starting out in the negative.

    Possibly, the scholarship in question may be cast aside in favor of something that does a better job of propelling the scene (field) forward.  It may be that we decide later that we want the scene (field) to go another way.  That’s fine. But what I think is important is that our first impulse is to respect one another’s contributions, and begin our discourse from points of agreement that then moves toward a conversation about where ideas, methodologies, and convictions diverge.  The Rule of Agreement is the best way to keep the open, collaborative, and generous community of digital humanities scholarship vibrant because it is an environment in which those who take risks are most likely to thrive.

    Take, for example, the recently announced issue of the Journal of Digital Humanities, which features topic modeling.  (Note: Yes, yes… this is shameless self-promotion.  Read my article!)  There are some excellent examples of what I’m describing here.  For example, Matt Jockers responded first with a tweet: “Home sick today:-( Thank goodness for #JDHTopics JDH V2 n1.  Fantastic issue with fantastic eds and contributors. journalofdigitalhumanities.org.”  As another example, Michelle Moravec responded to entries by Megan Brett and myself by live tweeting her reading.

    The emphasis here isn’t the orientation toward praise in these tweets (Although, praise is nice: who doesn’t like praise?).  The emphasis is a demonstration to accept by acknowledging and reading.  The conversation extends beyond scanning the table of contents and saying, “No more topic modeling, please!” (Yes, I know there are plenty of DHers who are sick of topic modeling.  I can’t blame them… but you should still read my article!).  The real power in the Rule of Acceptance is that it should lead us to the second rule: Yes, And.

    The second rule of improvisation is not only to say yes, but YES, AND.  You are supposed to agree and then add something of your own… To me, YES, AND means don’t be afraid to contribute.  It’s your responsibility to contribute.  Always make sure that you’re adding something

    Matt Jocker’s next tweet this morning does just that: “Inspired by new #JDHTopics, I’ve posted some lessons learned from topic modeling literature + my “secret” recipe;) matthewjockers.net/2013/04/12/sec…”  Successful scholarship, like improvisation, depends on generosity.  The “and” part is where you can take a conversation and refocus it.  For example, Matt’s approach to topic modeling and my approach to topic modeling are different.  However, Matt’s blog post on the LDA Buffet helped kick off my own work.  We take similar tools and use them for divergent purposes to answer different kinds of questions, and I think that’s what’s so brilliant about the second rule of improvisation.  Yes, And  creates diversity in scholarship rather than silencing it.

    I suppose this is why I put the Topic Modeling Game that I created into a GitHub repository.  If it sits on my hard drive waiting some day for a publication that might happen 2-3 years from now, I’m not operating within the spirit of Yes, And.  Perhaps, CC-BY and Creative Commons licensing, GitHub, Stack Overflow, and Digital Humanities Questions and Answers are some of the best discipline-wide examples of the rule of Yes, And.

    While disagreement may be native to scholarly discourse, agreement and openness complemented by intellectual generosity, I believe, are benchmarks of confident and prolific scholars.  This is particularly true in the digital humanities.  Digital humanists who seem to gain the most traction in the field also follow the third rule of improvisation: make statements.

    The next rule is MAKE STATEMENTS.  This is a positive way of saying “Don’t ask questions all the time.”  If we’re in a scene and I say, “Who are you? Where are we? What are we doing here? What’s in that box?” I’m putting pressure on you to come up with all the answers.

    In other words: Whatever the problem, be part of the solution.  Don’t just sit around raising questions and pointing out obstacles.

    If the community in which you are operating has really embraced the first two rules, then the third and fourth come much more easily.  I’ve already mentioned the collaborative nature of digital humanities, and directly following “respect your fellow collaborators,” the best advice as to how to be a good collaborator is to do more than just ask questions.  Show that you are committed to the conversation by also taking a risk and presenting new ideas along the way in your research.  This is where social media, experiments like Digital Humanities Now, and scholarly blogs are so important to the field of digital humanities.

    Questions posed in the spirit of “awareness raising” are necessary, but in presenting them, it’s incumbent upon the askers to take a first stab at answering the question themselves.

    Suffer me this allegory, if you will.  A couple of nights ago, I was rustling around the kitchen far too late in the evening trying to figure out what to make for dinner.  I had a bunch of leftovers out on the counter: roast pork, broccoli, mac and cheese, rotisserie chicken, tortellini, fixings for salad.  My 9-year old daughter wanders in, clearly hungry, scans the food on the counter, looks at me and says, “So, are we ever going to eat tonight? … Just asking…”

    Clearly, she knows we’re going to eat.  Sure, Jason and I have been known on occasion to pull out boxes of cereal and the milk and tell the kids this is “breakfast for dinner” night because we were too exhausted to cook… but there’s no real precedent for not feeding the kids.  She knows that.  She’s using the question because what she wants is to know that I have an answer all ready for her.  She wants me to say, “We’re going to order cheeseburgers and French fries with milk shakes.”

    That’s not what I said.  What I said was, “Sure.  It’s left over night.  Get a plate and make it yourself.”  She needed help opening containers and slicing off pieces of chicken breast, but ultimately she had a plate of food that reflected what she didn’t realize she’d already learned about putting together a meal.  She was so proud of having “cooked” her own dinner (read: microwaved…. read: lukewarm… read: dried out…), that she ate every bite of what she was disinclined to even try 5 minutes earlier.

    What’s the point?  Asking questions is important, but sometimes we ask questions because we lack the willingness or the time or the intellectual effort to make statements ourselves.  And in the end, as Fey explains with too-many questions in improvisation, we are forfeiting our responsibility to be part of the solution.  And, as my 9 year-old daughter discovered, we may like our own statements better than the responses we might get from others.

    Essentially what she asked was meant to bait me.  She wanted more reason to be upset.  But being upset doesn’t solve the root of the problem: she was hungry.  Making her dinner solved that problem, and then some.  Of course, it wasn’t the tastiest dinner in the world… but that leads me to the next (and I promise the last) point.

    THERE ARE NO MISTAKES, only opportunities.… In improv there are no mistakes, only beautiful happy accidents.  And many of the world’s greatest discoveries have been by accident.

     When I was revising my entry for the Journal of Digital Humanities, I discovered that one of the biggest “take aways” from the model I was presenting had nothing to do with ekphrasis or gender at all.  It had to do with race and elegy.  In the first draft, I had attributed two poems to Paul Laurence Dunbar—“We Wear the Mask” and “The Slave’s Complaint.”  Initially, I had used the model’s grouping of the two poems together to show how well the model had worked.  In another article from a few years earlier, Dunbar, it was argued was the first to have written about African American identity through elegiac verse.  However, going back and checking all of my links, I noticed that “The Slave’s Complaint” was, in fact, written by George Moses Horton, whose publication predates Dunbar’s work by almost 100 years. If we’re looking for an origin of the use of the elegiac in African American poetry, Horton presents an interesting and uninvestigated new avenue to research.

    By all accounts, this is the holy grail of DH—something new discovered among “known” data to be chased down, researched, and proven or disproven.  But, the finding itself isn’t about ekphrasis… or gender… or most of the other questions I was asking.  It was a mistake and a fantastic discovery on two different fronts that can lead to something completely new.  First, it demonstrates usefulness for my approach, even if it isn’t what I’d intended.  And second, there’s a distinct possibility that it can become the origin story for a discovery about African American literature that we didn’t know to ask.

    In the end, the digital humanities I want to see (and that I believe in many ways already exists) is similar to improvisation—generative, collaborative, even playful—and as a framework for how we engage in scholarly discourse, Fey’s “rules of improvisation” seem like a good place to start.

    Fey, Tina. Bossypants. New York, Boston, London: Little, Brown and Company, 2011.

    **quotations taken from pages 84-5 in the print edition**