A dear friend who is an American Sign Language interpreter recently shared with me a video of a virtual performance of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol that she helped interpret. I hadn’t read or seen a film version of A Christmas Carol in many years, and I’d forgotten what a touching and timeless story it is.
While A Christmas Carol, a novella written in 1843, was a story of its time, meant to promote understanding of and empathy for the industrial-age urban poor in England, its messages remain salient today. And, there are deeper meanings in its story.
Portrait of Charles Dickens, age 30, painted by Francis Alexander in 1842.
Layers of Meaning
In addition to its more obvious meaning as a story about compassion and charity, the story is also a powerful archetypal tale. It speaks to universal human needs for for meaning and community. What’s more, it illustrates the Jungian “hero’s journey”–Ebenezer Scrooge starts as a flawed, cold, and closed-off man who is transformed as he goes on an odyssey through his past, present, and future.
The Ghosts’ Lessons
The first of the three main motifs in the story, represented by the Spirit of the Past, is a Jungian battle between ignorance/repression (represented in the novella by fog, smog, dusk, and darkness) and awareness (represented by light from fires, candles, street lamps, and the ghost’s flaming crown). Scrooge must go through the pain of seeing his evolution from an innocent youth to a selfish and miserly adult. He begins to realize what he has lost in this process.
The Spirit of the Present brings the story’s second motif–want (represented in the novel by cold, ice, frost, and sleet) versus charity (represented by warmth, being well fed, and fine alcohol). The second spirit allows Scrooge to witness people coming together and bonding. Seeing this brings into the light his own loneliness and aloofness. As his journey continues, Scrooge must start facing his sins and their impact on others to become self-aware. The ghost also shows Scrooge two emaciated children called Ignorance and Want and warns him to avoid Ignorance at all costs.
The second spirit’s lessons help Scrooge bring his dark side further to the surface and begin to integrate his dark and light parts into a cohesive self. It is only after knowing himself that Scrooge would be able to more fully connect with others. The spirit also shows Scrooge Tiny Tim, a cheerful but ill child; this awakens some compassion in the miser. Tiny Tim represents youthful optimism and joy, love, and the promise of what life could be. Scrooge is saddened when the ghost tells him Tim will die.
When the third ghost, the Spirit of the Future, arrives, he is frightening and silent. He forces Scrooge to confront his mortality and the meaninglessness of his life–others don’t care that he dies, steal and sell his possessions, and have few kind words to say about him. The spirit also shows Scrooge that Tiny Tim has died, and people do mourn the loss of this pure little soul.
Scrooge learns that that for his life to have purpose, he must use the lessons learned through his odyssey: He must see all facets of himself and take responsibility for what he’s done to others, he must cultivate emotion and compassion for others, and he must use his wealth to help people. Scrooge has completed the hero’s journey and emerged as a new man.
Salient Lessons for Today
On the surface, we see the lessons Dickens intended for the capitalist upper classes of his time: Scrooge begins to run his business with mercy toward his debtors, give money to the needy, and treat his employees well. These are certainly messages that apply to our current world as well.
The deeper, and also timeless, lesson of Dickens’ tale is for us to live our lives seeking to really know and accept ourselves so that we can fully participate and contribute to the world around us. It is only by rejecting ignorance and denial that we can become integrated humans capable of empathy and connection.
My Wish for You
We’ve gone through a terrible journey of our own in 2020. My wish for anyone reading this post is for a peaceful holiday season and that 2021 brings good things for you, and for all of us. I also wish for you to be able to see and accept yourself as you are while striving to cultivate your higher self. Count your blessings, and share them.
Some of my friends have been getting together every Friday night for years to have a “listening party.” Each party has a theme (e.g., time, overthrow of the king, murder, gratitude), and all the participants come ready with ideas of songs, artists, or albums that fit (sometimes loosely) the theme. The host acts as DJ, giving each person a turn to suggest a song, which he plays.
In these days of COVID, the party is held through Zoom. It’s still a lot of fun. I wasn’t one of the old-timers of this party, just attending here and there, but lately I’ve been going each week. Zoom gives me a chance to participate when normally it would be hard to, since I’ve moved away from the town where most of these friends live. It’s a fun way to keep in touch, relax on a Friday evening, share music I like with friends, and hear different music.
In noticing the various genres that each friend likes, I was pondering why we tend to gravitate toward certain types of music. Like most things, there isn’t just one reason. It’s a fascinating topic: How does our individual psychology mesh with culture, society, and experience to shape our musical preferences?
How We Think Shapes Our Music Preferences A study of more than 4,000 participants led by Cambridge University psychologist David Greenberg and colleagues found a correlation between people’s thinking styles and musical preferences. The study divided the subjects into three categories: empathizers (Type E), who focus on people’s thoughts and emotions; systemizers (Type S), who focus on rules and systems; and balanced types (Type B), who focus equally on both areas. (What type do you think you are? I think I am Type B.)
In the study, Greenberg and colleagues reviewed the results of the interviews and found that Type E thinkers tended to like low-energy songs with emotional depth, including sad songs, and genres like soft rock and singer-songwriters. Type S thinkers tended to prefer more intense and structured music like heavy metal or avant-garde classical music. Type B personalities tended to display a broader range of preferences than either of the other types.
Photo by Mickel Emad.
Prior research suggests that listening to sad music can stimulate the pituitary gland to produce prolactin, which induces calmness and relaxation and is also related to empathy. This is probably more true for Type E people, who may have a larger than average hypothalamic region in the brain, the area governing the pituitary. Other studies show that listening to mellow music can stimulate the production of the hormone oxytocin, which promotes feelings of love, social bonding, well-being, and calm.
In Type S personalities, evidence suggests that the areas of the brain that regulate analytic thought (the cingulate and dorsal medial prefrontal areas) are larger. Type S people were shown to pay more attention to the structure and patterns of music, as well as instrumentation, rather than the emotions.
How Personality Type Factors In There is also research examining the link between personality types and music genre preferences. One study used the Five Factor Model of analyzing personality types (the qualities are conscientiousness, extroversion, openness, agreeableness, and neuroticism) to see if it fit with music choice. The study found that people who are more open to new experiences liked a wider variety of music, and tended to be drawn to classical music, blues, jazz, and folk music. People in this category tend to be emotional, imaginative, and artistically sensitive, as well as intellectually curious. Extraverts tended to like popular music. An earlier, similar, study also found that extroverts often are drawn to higher-energy and rhythmic music.
One Canadian study found that certain personality traits relate to musical taste in adolescents: Young people with lower self-esteem and a higher sense of alienation were more drawn to “heavy” music, and those who tended to focus on rule-following and have trouble being independent preferred “light” music. Adolescents who felt relatively secure and confident tended to have more eclectic musical preferences.
Additional Factors in Musical Preference Gender plays a role in why we like certain music. According to some research, female gender is associated with a more emotional response to music and a tendency to prefer pop. Male gender is correlated with liking exaggerated bass in music.
Age is an additional factor. Not surprisingly, young people are often more open to new music and more likely to listen to what’s contemporary, compared with older people, who often are drawn to music they liked when they were younger. Musical tastes also change over the lifespan.
History, Culture, and Experience Also Affect Music Taste We don’t exist in a vacuum. Our thinking and personality styles are in part shaped by genetics but also by environment. This includes our family, peers, and larger culture and community. For instance, psychology research shows that people are drawn to the familiar. Thus, some of our musical taste is shaped by what we hear as children and young adults.
A 2016 study published in Nature found that hundreds of years’ of learned behavior factor into why we prefer certain styles of music. This study looked specifically at music with consonant intervals (e.g., using octaves) versus that which is dissonant (e.g., using tritones). Consonant intervals generally sound brighter and feel more “resolved.” Dissonant intervals, on the other hand, tend to sound harsher and unfinished. People from Western cultures strongly prefer consonant music. The study found that people from non-Western cultures with no exposure to Western music equally enjoyed consonant and dissonant music. This research disproved the previously believed theory that preference for consonant music is biologically determined and universal. Thus, over time, our culture shapes what sounds pleasing and familiar to us.
We are also drawn to certain genres because of what it says to and about us; for example, we may listen to music from our racial or ethnic culture or the geographical region where we grew up. According to some studies, music preferences are also influenced by how an individual wants to be perceived–the music a person chooses is a form of self-expression and a reflection of conscious and unconscious identity traits. This was found to be more true for males than for people of other genders. Thus, we are drawn to music that represents something we relate to, such as intelligence (e.g., classical music, jazz), rebellion (e.g., heavy metal, countercultural folk music, punk), or a certain subculture (e.g., rockabilly, bluegrass, goth).
Images from James Mollison’s book The Disciples, a visual study of musical subcultures. Top: Missy Elliott fans. Middle: The Cure fans. Bottom: Sex Pistols fans. Artist website: https://www.jamesmollison.com/.
Music choice is also personal–we associate certain songs or bands with a memory or a person. For instance, maybe our first love was into a particular band. We may begin listening to that band as a way to get closer to our partner, but eventually, we grow to love the band–even after the relationship is over. Haven’t you ever heard a song start playing that reminds you of high school dances or your twenties or a favorite vacation and instantly start to feel good?
It’s fascinating to think about all of these factors. In the end, though, why we listen to what we listen to may not matter a whole lot. It’s the experience and richness of music that we care about, regardless of how we got there.
After a weekend walk around San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, I wanted to learn more about its history. All I really knew about it was that it became a bohemian haven in the late 1960s and has morphed into a more commercial version of its hippie past since then. It’s a place that has lots of murals and other interesting street art: stencils on the sidewalks, colorfully painted homes and businesses, eye-catching window displays, and more. Even now during the COVID pandemic, the area has some life and vibrancy as people window shop and hang out on Haight Street. And sadly, like many areas of San Francisco, it has a lot of homeless people and other folks who are down on their luck.
Colorful building on Haight Street, November 2020. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
Sign for the Wasteland consignment shop on Haight Street, November 2020. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
Early History
The earliest people who lived in the region that is now San Francisco were Native Americans, the Ramaytush Ohlone, who were part of a larger group of the Ohlone/Costanoan peoples. The land where Haight-Ashbury now lies was mostly sand dunes and was not a hospitable area for Native Americans to settle. The Spanish who came later to what is now California did not gravitate to this part of the region either, with its sandy expanses and often cool, foggy weather.
Nineteenth Century Development
The 1849 Gold Rush brought American prospectors and settlers to the region, where the original small town of Yerba Buena, later named San Francisco, rapidly grew. Like the Ohlones and Spanish before them, the Forty-Niners didn’t settle in most of the central and western parts of what is now San Francisco, including the future site of Haight-Ashbury. In addition to the sandy soil and fog, the area was not convenient to the waterfront, where most of San Francisco’s early growth occurred. Over time, some farms and “ranches” and a few scattered houses dotted the land that is now the Haight.
An 1864 map of San Francisco, looking west from the waterfront. I’ve circled what I think is the current site of Haight-Ashbury in red.
The development of Golden Gate Park in the 1870s brought more visitors and residents to central and western parts of San Francisco. By the 1880s, cable cars made travel through what is now Haight-Ashbury easy. Many cable car lines to Golden Gate Park terminated at or near the main pedestrian entrance to the park at Haight and Stanyan streets. With the influx of visitors, pool halls, taverns, restaurants, livery stables, hotels, boarding houses, bicycle shops, and other businesses sprang up near the intersection. Cable car lines and better land grading and building techniques of the 1890s and early 20th century allowed Haight-Ashbury to grow into a suburban residential upper middle class homeowners’ district, with a few pockets of large homes of the rich and elite.
Golden Gate Park entrance, looking north at cable car line, some time between 1889 and 1894, Stanyan and Haight Streets. Photo: OpenSFHistory.org wnp37.03316.
Early attractions in the neighborhood were The Chutes, an amusement park located on Haight Street between Cole and Clayton streets between 1895 and 1902, and the Haight Street Grounds stadium, built for California League baseball, which opened in 1887. In addition to League baseball games, the Grounds also hosted football games for University of California, Berkeley, and Stanford University in the early 1890s, before either had their own stadiums. The Grounds hit hard times with the Depression of 1893 and closed in 1895. The land was sold and redeveloped for residences.
Postcard of The Chutes, date unknown.
An 1893 real estate map of the Haight-Ashbury area looking south from The Panhandle park. The Grounds can be seen just left of center. Golden Gate Park is to the right. Photo from the Barry Lawrence Ruderman Map Collection, Stanford University.
1900 to Mid-Twentieth Century
Haight-Ashbury was one of the few neighborhoods of San Francisco spared from the devastating earthquake and subsequent fires of 1906. Many people who lived elsewhere in the city who were displaced from their homes found shelter in the Haight in hotels on Stanyon Street. Less fortunate families stayed in tent villages in Golden Gate Park and The Panhandle. Many of these refugees decided to make the Haight-Ashbury their permanent home. A post-earthquake building boom saw the creation of many new residences, often tract houses and flats built for the lower-middle and middle classes.
1906 refugees at Page and Stanyan streets. Photo from FoundSF.org.
An 1891 photo of a block of five tract houses at the corner of Page and Ashbury streets (shown from behind, as viewed from Oak Street). Photo copied from Hoodline.com.
By the 1910s, the Haight had many businesses, street car lines, schools, and hospitals and was a vibrant community. In 1924, a San Francisco columnist wrote “There is a comfortable maturity about the compact little city that San Francisco knows as Haight Ashbury. … just weathered enough to be nice, and new enough to be looking ahead to the future.” However, the good times didn’t last, as the Great Depression of 1929 to 1939 brought hardship. Many Haight-Ashbury residents with means moved to the suburbs. The bad economy, along with redlining in San Francisco, contributed to further decline of the Haight. Many of the old homes were divided into flats or converted into boarding houses, and by the ’40s and ’50s, much of the neighborhood was in disrepair, with some buildings vacant.
Haight Street between Ashbury and Clayton, looking west, 1944. Photo: San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
The Birth of the Haight’s Boho Culture
In the 1950s, a freeway was proposed that would have run through The Panhandle, but public protests in the ’50s and early to mid ’60s prevented the project from happening. Because the nearby Haight area was already economically depressed and became more so due to fears of how a freeway would impact the neighborhood, cheap rents and vacant properties attracted ’50s beatniks and, later, artists and hippies. This burgeoning alternative culture flourished. By the mid-1960s, the Haight’s counterculture brought nationwide media attention.
The first ever head shop, Ron and Jay Thelin’s Psychedelic Shop, opened on Haight Street in 1966. The Thelins felt that psychedelic drugs were they key to peace and equality and that people needed a supportive, positive environment in which to experience them. The Psychedelic Shop would be that place. Because of the Haight’s widespread drug use, “Gonzo” journalist Hunter S. Thompson labeled the area “Hashbury” in a New York Times Magazine article. The Haight was alive with musicians and other creatives, such as Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company, The Grateful Dead, and actor Peter Coyote, who in the ’60s was a member of “The Diggers,” a local anarchist activist group that did street theater.
The Grateful Dead on Haight Street in the late ’60s.
Haight Street in the ’60s. Photo from Buzzfeed.
Inspired by the Diggers’ activism, a group of University of California, San Francisco medical students opened the Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic. The clinic, which was the first nonsectarian free medical clinic in the United States, declared health care a right for all and also helped transform how drug addiction is treated. The clinic still serves the uninsured today. Similarly, the nearby Huckleberry House (founded in 1967 and still operating) transformed how support services are provided to homeless young people.
The Summer of Love, in 1967, attracted a wide range of people to Haight-Ashbury, including teenagers and college students drawn by the dream of a countercultural utopia, spiritual groups, runaways, middle-class tourists, and even partying military personnel from nearby bases. College students with no intention of “dropping out” played hippie for the summer. Hundreds of young runaways wandered the streets. The Haight could not accommodate the rapid influx of people, and the neighborhood scene quickly deteriorated.
The “Death of the Hippie” street theater event and procession put on by The Diggers and Psychedelic Shop owner Ron Thelin, 1967. Haight residents were upset by the widespread media coverage of the hippie movement and the infiltration of Haight-Ashbury by so many new people. According to Thelin, “It must all go—a casualty of narcissism and plebeian vanity. … [Haight-Ashbury] was portioned to us by the media-police, and the tourists came to the zoo to see the captive animals, and we growled fiercely behind the bars we accepted, and now we are no longer hippies and never were.”
By the early 1970s, Haight-Ashbury had said goodbye to many of the early creatives and hippies. Through the ’70s, the Haight saw urban blight, prostitution, hard drugs, and street violence while still retaining an air of bohemian nostalgia. The late ’70s saw many gay San Franciscans and others buying and fixing up cheap properties in the Haight, bringing new life to the area. Sami Sunchild obtained ownership of The Red Victorian, a historic building on Haight Street that Sunchild transformed into The Red Victorian Bed and Breakfast Peace Center, a B&B and spiritual center. Today, the Red Vic is a hostel, cafe, and residence.
The “Red Vic” in 2008. Photo by Bernard Gagnon.
The 1980s brought more commercial prosperity to the Haight, with new boutiques, used clothing stores, coffee shops, bookstores, and galleries that peddled sixties nostalgia to college students and tourists. The area also became an epicenter for the San Francisco comedy scene when The Other Café became a full-time comedy club and helped launch the careers of Robin Williams, Whoopie Goldberg, and Dana Carvey, among others.
Sadly, the AIDS epidemic of the ’80s and early ’90s resulted in many of the Haight’s gay residents dying or leaving, leaving Haight businesses to cater to a younger and straighter clientele. The ’80s also saw skinheads as a presence in the Haight. Through the 1980s and ’90s, the rave and alternative music scenes took off and influenced the culture of Haight-Ashbury. A long-time neighborhood attraction has been Amoeba Records on Haight Street near Stanyon. The business, which became one of the most famed independent music retailers in the world, was founded with a store on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley in 1990; the Haight store, a former bowling alley, opened in 1997.
Amoeba Records on Haight Street, fall 2019. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
The Haight Today
In the recent past, Haight-Ashbury has been a busy area with both vibrant businesses and a gritty, grungy feel, popular with both tourists and residents, especially teens and young adults. The area pays homage to its alternative history with thrift stores, world goods boutiques, and vintage shopping, but it also has chain stores, restaurants, and bars. It still attracts runaways and the homeless. Like most parts of San Francisco during the COVID pandemic, the Haight has been quieter than usual, with nonessential businesses closed for months, some forever. What the Haight of the post-COVID era will be remains to be seen.
Shop with colorful paint at Haight and Ashbury streets, November 2020. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
A head shop on Haight Street, November 2020. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
One of the murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
A few weeks ago, I was feeling stir crazy from staying at home during the COVID-19 pandemic (other than walking in my neighborhood and taking a few trips to the grocery store), so I drove to San Francisco’s Mission District to see the Clarion Alley Mural Project. The project is a series of murals, mostly with a social justice theme, painted in Clarion Alley, which runs for one block between 17th and 18th streets and Mission and Valencia streets. Clarion Alley Mural Project (CAMP) was established in 1992 by a volunteer collective of six residents/artists who were inspired by the murals of Balmy Alley, another Mission District alley covered in murals that were created in the early ’70s as an expression of artists’ outrage over human rights and political abuses in Central America.
Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.Murals of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
I can’t believe I hadn’t seen Clarion Alley before! I still remember the first time I heard about it: It was 2006, and I was working as a therapist-in-training at my first practicum position, at my graduate school’s outpatient therapy clinic. A young man I was treating for mood and social problems asked me if I knew about “that alley in the Mission with all the murals.” Despite going to the Mission District all the time and being an art lover, somehow I had never made it to Clarion Alley (or Balmy Alley, for that matter). After my client asked me about it, I forgot about the murals, and strangely, I never came across them during any of my days or nights walking around the neighborhood.
Doorways of Clarion Alley. Photo by Blair J. Davis.
One of the important messages embodied by Clarion Alley is that there should be a place for artists in San Francisco. Gentrification, prioritization of corporations and the wealthy, and a lack of affordable housing and work spaces have pushed artists, as well as many other longtime residents of the Mission, out of the area. Many of the murals address other social justice issues and pay tribute to prominent community members.
My trip the alley was just OK. The murals and other street art in the area were amazing and inspiring. However, it was hard to fully appreciate all the beauty and meaning: With the pandemic going on, I don’t have as much enthusiasm for exploring. Also, I felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving my neighborhood–not following the spirit of the shelter-in-place directive. On top of that, I was sad to see so many homeless people out and about, some in pretty rough shape. Not that that’s unusual in San Francisco, sadly. But the number of people who appeared homeless and were acting out (e.g., yelling, throwing garbage) seemed less typical, plus none were wearing masks. Homelessness and poverty, as well as untreated mental illness, are for sure the types of issues the artists of Clarion Alley are trying to highlight.
Despite the problems of my visit, I am glad to have seen Clarion Alley. After going, I did a lot of online research to learn more about the project. And, next time I feel inspired to leave my neighborhood, I would like to see Balmy Alley. Read more about the Clarion Alley Mural Project and Balmy Alley to learn about the history of both projects.
Note that photos of the Clarion Alley murals are not to be used for any commercial purpose, and permission should be obtained from CAMP before using the site as a location for photography. I attempted to contact CAMP before publishing this blog post, but I did not receive a reply so am hoping that my reasons for showing my photos of some of the murals–to inform my blog readers about CAMP–will fit with the project’s intent.
Still from Tiger King, the Netflix documentary series on Joe Exotic.
The Current State of Things with COVID-19
Wow, how things have changed since my last post on March 14th! At that time, things were heating up with the COVID-19 pandemic, but I was still going to work at my university counseling center job, and we were not yet “sheltering in place,” which started in San Francisco, where I live, on Tuesday, March 17th.
I hope everyone is weathering the ups and downs of this frightening situation as best they can. We all have our particular layers of stress and difficulty. Some of us are isolated and alone. Some are out of work and frightened about how to make ends meet, and some have lost their health insurance along with their job. While some folks have been busy scrambling to transition to working at home with little time (and in some cases, little tech support) to prepare, others are bored with too much free time. Some are living with others, navigating the pressures of being in a confined space together and not being able to get out or have much personal space. Many are struggling to balance multiple roles, such as working from home while parenting 24/7 and overseeing their children’s schooling. Still others are sick or concerned about friends and loved ones who are sick. Then, we have our heroes on the front lines of health care who are putting themselves at risk to take care of the ill. We also have those working in other essential jobs who are at increased risk of exposure but are doing what they have to do.
My heart goes out to everyone. I’m navigating my own ups and downs through this and finding my ways of coping. We each have our own needs and styles. I’ve been coping with being isolated (working at home and living alone) by reading, watching TV and videos, listening to music, taking virtual dance classes, going for walks, doing photography, and overcoming my introvert tendencies to stay in contact with friends more than usual.
I have been aware of my mixed feelings about some of the media I’ve been consuming. I’ve felt the need to limit my overall exposure to news and to avoid certain COVID-related stories. News overload and particularly frightening articles can make me fearful and anxious to a degree that doesn’t feel healthy, so I’ve been more careful about taking breaks and choosing what I read.
Reality TV
In addition to noticing the impact of news on my emotional health, I’ve also been pondering some of the shows I’ve watched that fall into the category of “trash TV”: The two I recently binge-watched, much to my chagrin (although I’m by no means alone), are Tiger King and Love Is Blind on Netflix. For anyone who hasn’t heard of these shows, Tiger King is a documentary series about a man with a private zoo (mainly containing big cats) whose life is a morass of chaos, conflict, and controversy. Love Is Blind is a reality show in which contestants spend a couple weeks “dating” “blind”–each in a separate room, talking to their date but not being able to see them. The contestants were encouraged to propose to the person they liked best, go on a trip together, live together, and get married, all within about a month and a half.
Still from Love Is Blind on Netflix.
I was entertained by both shows, although I felt alternately titillated, disgusted, judgmental, curious, and ashamed throughout watching. In the recent past, I haven’t spent too much time on reality TV or salacious programming, although it’s not like I’m totally above this kind of entertainment: I was an avid fan of The Real World and its spin-off, Road Rules. I’ve watched various reality shows and tabloid talk shows, been a reader of Perez Hilton’s low-brow gossip blog, and been fascinated by trashy true crime series and alien abduction investigation shows. I’m still a huge fan of Project Runway.
The History of “Trash TV”
When you look at the rise of reality TV, particularly the trashy variety, it can seem like a purely contemporary phenomenon. Reality programming (with different degrees of sensationalism) really took off the 1990s with shows like Survivor and various tabloid talk shows, among others, and in the 2000s with a whole slew of shows–the Idol and Real Housewives franchises, Keeping up with the Kardashians, The Amazing Race, Fear Factor … But these shows had their roots in earlier “reality shows” of the ’40s and ’50s, like Queen for a Day and Candid Camera. There were sensational shows throughout the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s (e.g., The Dating Game, The Newlywed Game, Geraldo) that were a part of the lineage of what we think of as modern-day reality TV.
Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.Still from The Newlywed Game, 1970s.
An Ongoing Taste for Sensationalism
In thinking about this type of entertainment, I became curious about our taste for gossip, unscripted real-life drama, and salacious tales before TV was ubiquitous. Some of us may have a romanticized view of the past, thinking that maybe people used to have better taste or higher standards for entertainment. But that isn’t true.
As far back as recorded human history, we have been drawn to consume and tell stories. Psychologists have said that one of the most prominent evolutionary features that separates humans from other primates is our mirror neuron system, which allows us to quickly perceive and relate to what other people are doing and feeling. Because humans have this ability and an inborn and adaptive interest in the lives and stories of other people, we have been able to create complex cultures and languages (Stromberg, 2009) and to engage in storytelling. This long history of oral history and telling tales contains many branches, one of which is sensationalism.
One form of sensational storytelling is gossip. Although technically, gossip can be defined as “talking about someone who is not present,” whether positive, negative, or neutral, we usually use the word to refer to saying negative things about someone, spreading rumors, and betraying secrets. Studies show that there may be an evolutionary benefit to talking about others, so we can bond and share social information across a larger network than our immediate connections (Gottfried, 2019); thus, gossip could have some positive functions. However, the negative form of gossip serves to denigrate, judge, and betray those about whom we are talking.
“A Little Tea and Gossip” by Robert Payton Reid, 1887.
When it comes to salacious stories and gossip, there is evidence that they have been with us for centuries. Professor Mitchell Stephens (2007) notes that the Acta Diurna, daily summaries of current events and human interest stories that were posted on public message boards in ancient Rome, were often sensational (and miscommunicated through word of mouth). Stephens also reports that books of the 16th and 17th century used salacious tales to teach moral lessons, as well as entertain. Between 1867 and 1876, the London magazine Belgravia, edited by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, who wrote sensational popular novels, provided shock and titillation on a wide range of subjects with an attention-grasping writing style (Gabriele, 2009). There were many other salacious novels and periodicals through the years.
Acta Diurna, the world’s first “newspaper?”
A related phenomenon is the desire humans have for “celebrity gossip,” which is partly rooted in ancient tales of gods and heroes and stories of royalty. In more recent times, our focus has been on actors, musicians, and athletes. Probably the first gossip tabloid in the United States was Broadway Brevities and Society Gossip, launched in New York in 1916. Initially, Brevities covered high society and New York’s theater world, but by the 1920s devolved into covering society scandals and gossip, eventually leading to the tabloid being shut down in 1925 when its editor and some associates were convicted of fraud and accused of blackmail. Other celebrity magazines of the early 20th century varied from fawning over stars to promoting beauty products to gossip.
Actress Seena Owen on the cover of the November 1922 issue of Broadway Brevities.Article from PhotoPlay magazine, 1934.
Why Do We Love Trash?
Why do we enjoy these forms of entertainment so much? There are a few reasons. To a degree, one reason is the previously mentioned mirror neuron system, which makes us curious about, empathetic to, and responsive to other people. But, there are also parts of our psyche, for better or worse, that compel us to compare ourselves to others, look for others’ flaws and weaknesses, and at times, want to see others struggle and even suffer. There is “good” and “bad” in all of us. We all have the capacity to build others up and tear them down–to delight in others’ successes but also to take perverse joy in their failures and foibles.
As a therapist, I believe it’s normal and healthy to recognize and accept all of our parts, even those we dislike or feel ashamed of. But, we always have the choice to feed and cultivate our better, more prosocial traits and put less time and energy into those aspects of ourselves that can be destructive. So, enjoy the trash TV and tabloid news if you must, but save some time, energy, and attention for those stories and activities that strengthen your healthy sense of self and your desire to connect with, celebrate, and support your fellow humans. Now more than ever, we need to build those aspects of human nature that bring us together.
Additional Reading
Gabriele, A. (2009). Reading Popular Culture in Victorian Print: Belgravia and Sensationalism, New York and London, Palgrave Macmillan.
I’m on a roll, making up for lost time with blog posts after not having written for several months! Today, I visited the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, a beautiful building full of tropical plants in Golden Gate Park. This Victorian-era attraction is the oldest public wood-and-glass conservatory in North America. After my visit, I did some deep digging online and found some interesting history, as well as a ton of photos. Note that most of the history provided here comes from the Conservatory’s website.
The San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, probably in 1878 or 1879. Lone Mountain is in the background at right. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.
Early History A San Jose landowner, James Lick, had ordered conservatory materials to be shipped from New York in the 1870s to construct two private conservatories; however, Lick died before his projects could be built, and as his estate was being divided, 33 tons of the glass were donated to the Society of California Pioneers. In 1877, the Society of California Pioneers sold the conservatory pieces to 27 prominent San Franciscans and local philanthropists, including former Mayor William Alvord, Charles Crocker, Leland Stanford, and Claus Spreckels. It was the intention of these men to donate the conservatory materials to the City of San Francisco for public use in Golden Gate Park, which was being created.
A stipulation of the donation was that the conservatory be erected within 18 months, so it had to be built quickly. This happened, even though the steamer Georgia, which was carrying some of the construction materials, sunk. This may explain why the San Francisco Conservatory does not seem to have had a formal opening date, but rather a “soft opening” sometime in the middle of April 1879. In addition to the glass from Lick, the building materials included local old-growth redwood and other native trees.
The Conservatory in 1879. This may be during construction, as the building appears to be unpainted.
Conservatories were very popular in the Victorian era, and the San Francisco Conservatory was no exception, fast becoming the most visited location in Golden Gate Park. It was beloved by both locals and visitors. The original layout included a fountain in the entryway and another in the Palm Room, under the dome. The west wing displayed flowering and ornamental foliage in one gallery and hard-wooded plants, like azaleas, in the other. The east wing featured the Orchid House and an aquatic plant gallery with a large pond, which contained the Conservatory’s first blockbuster exhibit: the Victoria regia, a giant water lily, with leaves that grow several feet in diameter. This plant was the first of its kind to be grown in California and brought both recognition and crowds to Golden Gate Park. The Conservatory still boasts these gorgeous giant water lilies today.
The Pond Room in the late 1800s. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. The Pond Room today: in December 2019.The Conservatory in 1882. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1934.
The Conservatory survived a fire originating in the furnace room in 1883 that destroyed the central dome and many plants. With no public funds available for repairs, private donor Charles Crocker provided $10,000. During the restoration, the dome was raised by 6 feet, and the eagle finial on top of the dome was replaced with the planet Saturn, probably a reference to the ancient Roman god of agriculture. In 1895, the Conservatory was wired for electricity for the first time.
The remnants of the dome following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.1318.Reconstruction of the dome underway, mid-1880s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.4131.View from Arizona Garden down to the Conservatory of Flowers in the mid-1880s. Dome appears to be under reconstruction following the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.02290-L.Ceremony for laying the cornerstone of the Garfield Monument, August 24, 1883. View northwest across Main Drive (John F. Kennedy Drive today) toward the dais and crowd. Conservatory dome under reconstruction after the 1883 fire. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03265.The Conservatory with the new dome, with visitors coming by horse and buggy. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but likely at the end of the 1880s.)Interior shot, 1886. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03465.Crowds of visitors in 1887. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp71.1427.The Conservatory’s flowerbeds decorated with “parterre” designs, 1890. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp70.0232.The Conservatory in 1900. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1900s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.04228.
The devastating San Francisco 1906 earthquake and subsequent fires did little damage to the Conservatory. The area leading up to the building, known as Conservatory Valley, became a temporary refugee camp for people who had been left homeless by the disasters.
Refugee camp outside the Conservatory after the 1906 earthquake and fire. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website.Refugee camp in Conservatory Valley, looking south to Mt. Sutro, Clary Collection. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.00936.Three men with basic necessities (including whiskey) in front of a tent in a refugee camp, probably in Conservatory Valley. Note Iron Bridge in background. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.162.Men view the earthquake refugee camp near the Conservatory. View from steps of Arizona Garden. Affiliated Colleges in distance on Mt. Sutro. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp26.501.Water fountain in front of the Conservatory, designed by Melvin Earl Cummings and formally accepted by the Park Commission in June 1904. Photo taken in 1909. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp33.03902.1910. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1910s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp37.03870.1915. Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp14.4628.
Another fire originating in the furnace room damaged the Conservatory in 1918, resulting in the partial collapse of the glass roof and damage to the Potting Room. The Conservatory was again able to bounce back from adversity. However, by the 1930s, budget cuts, a result of the Great Depression, meant that park services and staff were reduced, and the Conservatory suffered from neglect. Necessary repairs were not made, and on several occasions the Conservatory was threatened with closure. Accounts vary, but some say that the building was closed for part of the ’30s and ’40s for structural repairs, reopening in the mid-’40s.
The Conservatory lawn in the 1920s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Snazzy visitors in their car. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but probably the 1920s.) Visitors. Photo from San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers website. (Date not provided, but appears to be the 1920s.) 1920s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp15.675.The Conservatory faced tough times in the 1930s. Photo from OpenSFHistory.org.Interior shot, 1930s. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp27.6220.Parterre in front of the Conservatory in honor of San Francisco welcoming the United Nations, 1945. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5246.Visitors in 1945 with United Nations parterre. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.1489.Aerial view, April 10, 1947. Photo: Barney Peterson / The Chronicle 1947.Woman in 1950 posing next to floral tapestry reading “Public Parks Junior Tennis Championship” in front of the Conservatory. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp28.3063.Interior shot, 1957. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.1373.1963. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5886.Renovation underway at the Conservatory entrance, 1966. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp25.5712.1973. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp12.00721.The interior of the Conservatory of Flowers, shown on its 100th anniversary on May 19, 1978, looks much the same as it did in 1878. Photo: Clem Albers / The Chronicle 1978.Parterre of 49er helmet reading “Super,” to commemorate the 49ers’ first Superbowl victory, over the Bengals in 1982. Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp119.00084.
More Recent History The most devastating damage in the Conservatory’s history was caused by a violent wind storm in 1995 that shattered 40 percent of the building’s glass and destroyed many rare plants. With millions needed for repairs, the building was closed, with many fearing it would never reopen.
With fundraising efforts, including those by First Lady Hillary Clinton, the Conservatory was able to be repaired. Restoration began in 2000 and took 8 years. One major challenge of the repairs was that the Conservatory was built according to a detailed blueprint, which apparently was destroyed in the great fire that occurred after the 1906 quake. This required the architects involved with the project to take the building apart so they could see how it was built in order to restore it. The work also included lead abatement and seismic strengthening. The total cost of the redo: $25 million. A grand public reopening was held in 2003.
Damaged facade in 1995. Photo from https://www.wmf.org/project/golden-gate-park-conservatory-flowers.Man seated in front of Conservatory of Flowers in the 1990s, with sign that reads “Danger Keep Out.” Photo from Western Neighborhoods Project – wnp07.00151.Grand reopening gala, 2003. Photo by Katy Raddatz/Chronicle.
Since 2003, millions of visitors have come to the Conservatory of Flowers, and it has been the site of weddings and special events. The Conservatory holds talks by horticultural authors and hosts horticultural societies and botany students. The Conservatory of Flowers has garnered numerous local, state, and national awards, and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1971. It is a City and County of San Francisco Landmark and a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark.
Personal History I’ve only been to the Conservatory a few times but definitely plan to return again now that I am living in San Francisco. On today’s visit, I saw many lovely orchids, a 100-year-old giant Imperial Philodendron named Phil, beautiful stained glass, koi, and those giant lily pads. During what I believe was my first visit, in 2006, when I was in graduate school and my parents were in town to see me, the Conservatory had a wonderful exhibit on butterflies and bats. (However, I may have visited during my first trip to San Francisco, which was in 1991. It’s hard to remember now!) What a lovely and special place, with so much history!
Butterfly exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad impersonating a bat at the Bats and Butterflies exhibit at the Conservatory, 2006.My dad admiring the lily pad sculpture in the Pond Room at the Conservatory, 2006.The Conservatory today: December 2019. The sky briefly clears after rainstorms.Koi pond and statue today: December 2019.The Conservatory today: December 2019. Winter “Night Bloom” light show. From FogCitySecrets.com.
I admit that I am fascinated by serial killers. I seek out TV shows, movies, documentaries, and sometimes books about them. I watch with a mix of disgust, fear, and interest. As a psychologist, I want to understand the mind of the psychopath. As someone who is empathic and spends a lot of time helping others, it’s very hard to wrap my mind around what it must be like to be a cold-blooded killer.
I’m not alone in my interest in serial killers. Psychopaths such as John Wayne Gacy, the Zodiac Killer, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and the Boston Strangler have garnered tons of of public attention.
Serial killer Ed Kemper, 1973. Photo from Santa Cruz County Sheriff’s Office.
Diagnosis According to the diagnostic “bible” of mental health professionals, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013), the category that fits most serial killers, those who killed multiple people on separate occasions for psychological and/or sexual reasons, is Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). Colloquially, people use psychopath or sociopath more often than APD—technically, they mean the same thing, although in common usage, psychopath usually refers to a more violent form of APD than does sociopath.
The defining characteristics of APD boil down to a long-term pattern of disregard for, or violation of, others’ rights and feelings. While we all probably know someone like this, thankfully most of us don’t know a serial killer. Someone is said to have APD if they have three or more of the following traits that are not better explained by another mental illness (such as bipolar disorder): failure to respect and/or adhere to laws and norms; repeated lying and deceit for personal gain or pleasure; impulsivity and failure to plan ahead; reckless disregard for the safety of self and others; a pattern of irresponsibility with regard to work, finances, and other important areas; and a lack of remorse after having hurt or taken advantage of others. This diagnosis is only used in adults 18 or older—children with such traits are diagnosed with Conduct Disorder (and most adults with APD had Conduct Disorder when they were young).
Serial killers are obviously at the extreme end of the spectrum of APD: On the mild end, you might see someone who cheats on their taxes and cyber-bullies. Serial killers tend to have shown sadistic traits and wet the bed as youngsters and often are fascinated by fire-setting. Contrary to popular belief, most are not “evil geniuses” but have low to average IQ. Most are male (Hickey, 2010; Vronsky, 2007).
How Did They Become Killers? There is no one clear reason why someone becomes a serial killer. Probably, a lot of reasons add up to a seriously disturbed personality. These include “nature” (genes, high testosterone levels, low serotonin levels, head injury, developmental brain anomalies) and “nurture” (antisocial parents, family problems, severe abuse, bullying, societal factors). The fact that there is not a definitive “recipe” for homicidal behavior may be one of the most disturbing aspects to think about: If there is no one obvious reason people become serial killers, how can we prevent them from developing?
A Little History There have likely been serial killers throughout history. Some believe that werewolf and vampire legends were inspired by serial killers (Schlesinger, 2000). One of the most famous historical murderers, often called “the first modern serial killer,” was Jack the Ripper. He killed at least five women in London in the late 1800s and was never caught. The story of these killings spawned a media frenzy, countless movies and books, and one of the earliest “profiles” of a killer (Canter, 1994).
Picture from The Illustrated Police News, October 6, 1888.
In the United States, there have been approximately 2625 documented serial killers. Disturbingly, 76% of all known serial killers in the 20th century were from the U.S. What does that say about our country? I guess it should not be that surprising, given our overall violence compared with many other nations: For example, in looking at homicides in cities around the world, rates in U.S. cities are much, much higher than those in Europe and Asia (Violent Crime).
Why Do We Like Killers? OK, perhaps like is too strong a word. But, maybe we are fascinated by serial killers because they are different from the norm: We are curious about what is unusual. And, we may consciously or unconsciously admire those who don’t care about rules, follow their darkest impulses, and act as they please with no conscience. Glorification of the “outlaw” fits with the history of the United States, built on rebellion, violence, and independence (Edlund, 2017). Americans also have a very complicated psychological relationship with power, dominance, sexuality, and control, all elements of many serial killings.
Some of the characteristics that allow some serial killers to succeed with their crimes may be part of their allure: The ability to charm and manipulate is often in their makeup. Take Ted Bundy, for example. There is something both fascinating and horrifying about the idea that that charming but controlling guy you talked to at a bar or work with could secretly be hiding bodies in his basement. It also makes one think twice about online dating. Other serial killers are not particularly charming but can fly under the radar, living ordinary lives, with others not realizing who they are and what they do.
We may be drawn to stories about serial killers for the same reasons why some people love horror movies. One is that reading or watching tales of serial killers is a safer way to face our fears of violence and death and even experience some excitement and arousal around killing. Murderers’ lives may also hold a dark appeal because it seems taboo to wonder about them. Many people have a desire to seek out what is forbidden or at least have a curiosity about what is outside the realm of everyday life.
Serial Killer Favorites I want to share some of my favorite depictions of serial killers, in case you, like me, have a curiosity about them. My favorite by far has been The Fall,a dark and disturbing three-season Netflix series (2013–2016) set in the U.K. and starring Gillian Anderson and Jamie Dornan. Anderson does a stellar job as the troubled detective tasked with finding serial killer Dornan. The acting and story are what kept me riveted, but I have to admit that the fact that the killer was a mental health counselor added to the draw.
The Silence of the Lambs (1991) is a classic serial killer movie. Anthony Hopkins as the homicidal and cannibalistic Dr. Lecter epitomized the Hollywood image of a psychopath, and Jodie Foster was a compelling and vulnerable hero. The only thing I didn’t like was the movie’s implication that killer Buffalo Bill’s penchant for cross-dressing had anything to do with his murderous instincts. A little-known fact is that one of the inspirations for Buffalo Bill was Philadelphia psychopath Gary Heidnik (who was not a cross-dresser or transgender, by the way). Another inspo was Ed Gein, who was believed to have been trying to make a “woman suit” out of the skin of victims so he could pretend to be his dead mother. (Gein was also an inspiration for Norman Bates in Psycho.)
Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) is certainly another classic of the genre, unfortunately also featuring a cross-dressing killer. Of course, Norman Bates was not necessarily dressing in women’s clothing for sexual or identity reasons but because he was embodying his (deceased) abusive mother. Sorry for the spoiler if you never saw the movie, but come on—if you have any interest in serial killers, you must have watched it!
I really enjoyed the cultural satire of American Psycho (2000), starring Christian Bale. I mean, it’s quite a feat if you can make serial killing humorous. And that business card scene is such a biting send-up of 1980s business culture.
You can bet he’s playing Huey Lewis and the News.
Cormac McCarthy’s novel No Country for Old Men (2005) and the Coen brothers’ 2007 movie adaptation starring Tommy Lee Jones and Javier Bardem are terrifying. McCathy’s novel does a better job of fleshing out the psychological torment of good guy Bell, while the film version better depicts the horror that is Bardem’s Chigurh.
A few runners-up for me have been the Netflix series Mindhunter (which follows FBI agent Ford Holden through his groundbreaking research in the 1970s), the 2007 film Zodiac (about the San Francisco killer), and the Netflix series Manhunt, which humanizes the infamous Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski (and which I mentioned in an earlier post). There are lots more, and some I have not even checked out yet.
For some reason, I am able to “shut it off” pretty easily after reading or watching serial killer tales. However, if you’re more likely to lie awake and afraid afterwards, do yourself a favor and save these stories for daytime consumption!
References American Psychiatric Association (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition. Arlington, VA: American Psychiatric Association.
Canter, David (1994). Criminal Shadows: Inside the Mind of the Serial Killer. HarperCollins.
Well, dear reader(s), it’s been another minute since I posted. I’ve thought about writing many times, but life has gotten in the way. OK, sometimes laziness has gotten in the way, but life, too!
Moving to the Outer Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco a few months ago made me curious about the area’s history and also got me to thinking about how the characteristics of different neighborhoods can impact our thoughts and emotions. I’ve written before about the psychology of color. Like color, scale and design can shape the way people interact with neighborhoods. As I’ve walked around my new environs, I’ve thought about how the building scale, uniformity, design, and colors make me feel.
Aerial shot of the Outer Sunset, looking north.
History To call the Outer Sunset a “working-class” neighborhood today is a bit of a misnomer: The average house here now goes for about a million dollars. But when they were built, they were meant to allow families with modest means a way to have their own homes. Formerly called “Outside Lands,” comprising acres of sand dunes and scrub, the area started to be developed in the late 1800s when tourist attractions were added to Ocean Beach and Golden Gate Park was created. Initially, it was mostly settled by white Americans, primarily Irish and Italian. Mass home building didn’t take off until after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Large tracts of nearly identical houses were built from the 1920s to the 1960s. There are several commercial strips scattered throughout the Sunset.
Starting in the ’60s, the neighborhood saw a steady influx of Asian (mostly Chinese) immigrants following the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which lifted racial quotas and allowed more non-Europeans to immigrate to the United States. Today, the Outer Sunset is primarily Asian and Asian-American, with Chinese being the dominant culture; the second-largest ethnic group here is European-American.
One of the commercial streets of the Sunset is Irving Street. This shot is on Irving near 24th Avenue, technically in Central (not Outer) Sunset. Photo from sanfranciscodays.com.
Design and Scale The Outer Sunset has a very distinct look and a fairly uniform design. Friends who are not that familiar with the area but have been to San Francisco often look blank when I try to explain where I live, but when I describe the way Outer Sunset looks, their eyes light up with recognition: “Oh, I drove through that neighborhood on my way up the coast!” “Oh, yeah, all those pastel houses!” “I think I was there on my way to Golden Gate Park!”
In some ways, Outer Sunset reminds me of working class neighborhoods in cities back East, where I’m from. Philadelphia, where I spent almost 20 years, has many districts that were built for working people throughout the centuries, and all share a certain style and economy of materials: small homes, often connected in rows; modest design; similarity to the neighbors’ homes (as many were built en masse); generally small (or absent) front yards; human scale.
Unlike the working-class neighborhoods of other cities, Outer Sunset is made up of blocks and blocks of (mostly) pastel stucco houses. The majority of the homes are two-story row houses with a garage on the ground floor and living quarters above. Because property is so ungodly expensive in San Francisco, many homeowners have added an in-law apartment on the ground floor, behind the garage. There are a few three-story homes here and there, and there are some blocks on which the houses have a touch more individual design than on others. Contemporary homeowners seem to be choosing richer paint colors and grays over pastels.
A typical block of homes in Outer Sunset, probably built in the 1940s or ’50s.
Psychology of Design In some ways, the neighborhood’s sameness provides comfort and familiarity. You instantly know it’s a quiet, residential neighborhood when you see all those little pink houses, one-car garages, and quaint touches that help each often-bland facade stand out just a little. There is a sense of peace and orderliness.
Houses along Great Highway, the western-most street in the Outer Sunset.
While you might think that the human-scale architecture, soothing color palate, and walkable streets would promote a sense of community, other design elements fight against it. One is that garages take up most of the first floor, and entrances are hidden by locked metal gates; these features take away from homes having a warm or accessible feel. Also, it’s rare for anyone to be sitting or hanging out in front of their house—most homes lack porches, stoops, and front patios that would allow residents to spend time out front where they could chat with neighbors and passers-by. Houses feel private and hidden rather than open and inviting.
Sunset over the Outer Sunset, with the Pacific in the distance.
One Canadian researcher, Colin Ellard, has found that people are strongly affected by building facades (Bond, 2017). Complex and interesting facades affect people positively, whereas boring and impersonal building fronts can have a negative impact. The Sunset contains a mix of “interesting” versus bland facades, leading pedestrians to feel varying degrees of discomfort versus engagement. Some Outer Sunset streets are much more uniform and uninteresting than others.
According to Danish urbanist Jan Gehl, a well-designed city street should allow the average pedestrian to see an interesting new sight about once every five seconds (Ellard, 2015; Weintraub, 2015). In some ways, the Sunset’s lack of dramatic architectural variety may be offset by the small and interesting details that are visible to those on foot: plantings, murals, interesting paint colors, attractive metalwork, sculptures, benches, and decorative stones. Still, many have criticized the Outer Sunset as being boring and monotonous.
Interesting murals on a house and garage door.
Another much-studied element of the psychology of urban neighborhoods is green space: Access to greenery amidst city buildings is linked to better psychological health. The Sunset lacks a lot of green spaces—some blocks are virtually all concrete—although some streets do boast small trees and strips of yard containing anything from rocks to artificial turf to flowers to succulents. As with other psychological elements of design, the Sunset provides some positives and negatives here.
Pretty planters.Funky yard.
Final Thoughts I’m slowly feeling more at home in my new neighborhood. I can’t say that I have strong positive or negative feelings about the area—for me, it’s a mix. I can say that I wish there were more people out and about when I am walking around, and I also would be happier if the houses had more inviting fronts, with porches and yards. But that said, I am enjoying the Outer Sunset and continue to discover the small details that break up the overarching uniformity. I love seeing the ocean when I’m waiting at the bus stop. I love being able to walk to Golden Gate Park. I love the beachy feel on some of the streets and the interesting mix of cultures. On the surface, it may all look the same, but if you take a closer look, there is a lot to see.
Hello, dear readers! Wow, it’s been a long time since I wrote a post. The past couple of months have been a whirlwind, as I did a little traveling, accepted a new job in San Francisco, moved, and started the job. With so much transition happening, I am feeling both energized and uprooted. Everything is new and strange. I am having to “redo” just about every part of my life: commuting via mass transit, putting my home together, altering my social life, finding my new dance community, dealing with city parking, learning new procedures and routines at work … With all this change, I find myself reflecting on the past.
So, you get yet another “soundtrack” post! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again now: I am not sure anyone but myself enjoys my musical musings, but it brings me joy and comfort to reminisce, so humor me. This post covers favorite songs and bands from my mid-30s to now, which takes us from the mid-2000s to the present.
In the mid-2000s, I was starting another big life transition: I had decided to change careers and apply to graduate school in psychology. I felt that starting grad school presented the opportunity to move to the West Coast, something I thought would be a fun adventure. When I moved to California in 2005 to attend grad school in San Francisco, I figured I’d live in California a few years and then move back East once I had graduated. Well, 14 years later, I am still in California! Go figure.
The mid-2000s were a time of diverse trends in music, and my tastes were also diverse. One genre I continued to like was “lounge,” electronica, and DJ music, particularly RJD2, DJ Krush, Gorillaz, and DJ Shadow. Some of it was good for actual lounging, and some for dancing.
Postmodern virtual band Gorillaz is made up of animated characters and was created by Blur lead singer, Damon Albarn, and artist Jamie Hewlett. The Gorillaz album “Demon Days,” containing the song “Dirty Harry” came out in 2005.
Although it came out in 2001, I was still listening to Krush’s album “Zen” in the mid-2000s.
I was still into indie rock and Britpop, post-punk, and garage rock. Being in the San Francisco Bay Area in the mid- to late 2000s gave me access to a lot of great live shows and exposure to some more obscure garage rock bands a grad school friend was into. I discovered two bands during that time that are still favorites: Brian Jonestown Massacre and King Khan (real name, Arish Ahmad Khan). BJM was formed in San Francisco in 1990. I saw them perform several times in the 2000s; although I love their music, their live shows are spotty and unpredictable, sometimes marred by fist fights or verbal altercations between band founder Anton Newcombe and other band or audience members. The last show I saw, just last year in 2018, was not good–Anton seemed high (he’s struggled off and on with addiction) and was pretty out of it, barely able to perform. The band only played 6 songs before throwing in the towel.
King Khan is a high-energy performer whose music combines funk, garage rock, and other genres. He’s had several bands/projects, including King Khan and BBQ Show, King Khan and the Shrines, and Almighty Defenders. I’ve seen him perform a few times, and it’s always fun and a bit raunchy.
BJM never enjoyed a lot of mainstream fame, but if they had a “hit song,” it was probably “Nevertheless,” released in 2001.
A live performance by King Khan and the Shrines in 2008. This performance is a bit more sedate than many: There are often crazy costumes, antics, and lots of energy.
Lots of indie and garage rock, some of which I started listening to in the ’90s, was still on my playlist through the 2000s (e.g., Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The White Stripes, The Hives, The Vines, Holly Golightly, The Black Keys, The Raveonettes). I also continued to love Radiohead. I still listen to a lot of this music today. Some other favorite bands/artists that recorded in the 2000s (or that I discovered at that time) were Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Franz Ferdinand, Arcade Fire, The Shins, Belle and Sebastian, The Raconteurs, and The Beta Band. My memory of exactly when I got into which bands is a little rusty now!
A favorite Shins song from 2003.
A Black Keys video from 2006.
One of my favorite Yeah Yeah Yeah songs, “Gold Lion,” from 2006.
“Steady as She Goes” by The Raconteurs in 2008.
An artist I always associate with my grad school years (2005 to 2010) is José González. I love his beautiful, moody guitar-heavy music and really got into it during that period. I also started listening more to some country and alt-country, such as Dolly Parton’s bluegrass album “Little Sparrow,” as well as Lucinda Williams, Neko Case, and “Van Lear Rose,” Loretta Lynn’s album produced by Jack White. I also added bands such as Bon Iver, Wolf Parade, Broken Bells, Iron and Wine, and British Sea Power to my library.
A live performance of one my favorite José González songs, “Heartbeats.” Recorded by González in 2003, performance in 2010. (The original was an electronic song by The Knife.)
I also have to include this video, another cover, since the original of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” by Joy Division, is one of my favorite songs of all time. I love González’s version, too.
In the late ’00s and early 2010s, my musical tastes stayed pretty similar, heavy on garage and post-punk rock, with a bunch of other random stuff thrown in. I also had fun exploring older music, such as classic country and rockabilly (Patsy Cline, Kitty Wells, Roger Miller, Lefty Frizzell, Carl Smith, Ersel Hickey, Johnny Horton) and funk and R&B (The Bar-Kays, Taj Mahal, James Brown, The Mighty Dogcatchers, Robert Jay, The Stovall Sisters, Wilson Pickett, Detroit Sex Machines).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXcIX39J81s
The Detroit Sex Machines–still sounds great today! (recorded around 1970)
A country/rockabilly classic, “Dang Me,” by Roger Miller (1964).
Don’t The Mighty Dogcatchers make you want to dance? (1973)
That brings us up to just a few years ago. What I have been listening to in the mid- to late 2010s has been pretty random: A large sampling of stuff old and new from my iTunes library. Artists I have discovered in the recent past (some of them new, some just new to me) include Ray LaMontagne (yeah, he’s been around a while, but I didn’t really like him all that much until his 2014 album “Supernova,” which I love), Rayland Baxter, Amen Dunes, The Allah-Las, Baby Woodrose, Black Mountain, The Black Angels, Beats Antique, Dan Auerbach, Leon Bridges, The Limiñanas, Stephen Marley, Toro y Moi, and a whole bunch of bellydance and bellydance-friendly music (due to my dance habit!). A few fave artists/bands for bellydance are Solace, Issam Houshan, and Raquy & The Cavemen.
Retro cool sounds from The Limiñanas.
The Allah-Las are slick.
Getting mellow with Rayland Baxter.
A fun and challenging song for American Tribal Style (ATS) bellydance.
There’s much more I could share, but I’m getting tired, so I will end here for now. I hope you have enjoyed the music!
Hello, readers! It’s another “soundtrack” post. As I’ve said before, I am not sure how many of you, if any, enjoy these posts, but I love putting them together, so indulge me once again as I delve into the music that I liked in my post-college days. I’m focusing on my early 20s to mid-30s, so the time period is the early 1990s to the mid-2000s.
Right after college, when I was in my early 20s, I was living with my boyfriend/soon-to-be-fiancé. We were both influenced by hip hop, R&B/soul, grunge, singer-songwriter, and “college rock” (with closely related genres “modern rock,” “alternative rock,” and “indie rock”).
My love of dance music in college continued, morphing into a love for hip hop and R&B/soul. A few of my faves in the early to mid-90s were Deee-Lite, Arrested Development, Digable Planets, Jamiroquai, Soul II Soul, and De La Soul. And, living in Philadelphia, it was impossible not to like Will Smith’s “Summertime.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzoEK545j64
“Groove Is in the Heart” by Deee-Lite, 1990.
“Tennessee” by Arrested Development, 1992.
DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, “Summertime,” 1991, filmed in Philadelphia, both musicians’ hometown.
“A Roller Skating Jam Named ‘Saturdays'” by De La Soul with Q-Tip, 1991.
Although Jamiroquai’s hit “Virtual Insanity” was mid-’90s, not early ’90s, I add it here because the style kinda fits, and the video is cool.
Another mid-’90s R&B dance favorite is “Scream” by Michael and Janet Jackson. Love the song, but love the video even more!
A very different genre, which I also loved in my 20s, was grunge. The music, and the culture and aesthetic of grunge, were big influences. The biggies, of course, were Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, and Alice in Chains. Nirvana was by far my favorite, and I was devastated by Kurt Cobain’s suicide in 1994.
Nirvana’s classic grunge anthem, “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” 1991.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MS91knuzoOA
Disturbing grunge song “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam, 1991.
I was equally into alternative rock. The Pennsylvania band Live was a fave. I was very into “Lightening Crashes,” although later that song got kind of ruined for me by some bad personal experiences I won’t go into here. Thus, I include a different Live video, “I Alone,” which I also loved. I pretty much wore out my copy of the band’s Throwing Copper CD. Can’t say the dance moves and hairstyles in the video hold up too well today!
“I Alone” by Live, 1994.
In my 30s, after my divorce, I started to get more into hip hop and electronic music. A Tribe Called Quest and Q-Tip’s early solo stuff were hip hop favorites, along with Public Enemy, Black Sheep, and The Pharcyde. My top electronic loves were The Chemical Brothers, Portishead, Fatboy Slim, The Prodigy, and The Wiseguys. I also liked all of Del tha Funky Homosapien’s projects: his solo stuff, Deltron 3030, and Gorillaz (he was a guest performer).
A Tribe Called Quest’s 1992 hit “Scenario.” This one always got the dance floor jumping when Philly DJ Cozmic Cat (now in Toronto) was spinning at the 700 Club.
The Chemical Brothers had some very trippy and creative videos, including this one for “The Test,” 2003. While not one of my favorite Chemical Brothers songs, it was one of my favorite of their videos.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXWQQYZ8vck
Fatboy Slim, “Sunset (Bird of Prey),” 2000.
The frenetic “Firestarter” by the Prodigy, 1997.
Whether you want it or not, dear readers, I’ll post some more “soundtrack” columns to bring us from the ’90s to the present. I hope you enjoyed some of these videos!
