When I read an art critic’s cavalier description of the colored tiles in Spencer Finch’s Memory Landscape as “backsplash,” I winced for him. The work is so much more than that. Even the concept is lovely: fill seventy feet of one of the walls at the Obama Presidential Center…
When I read that not forcing kids to hug their relatives is a new trend, I have to smile. My mother never forced a hug. When my bombastic uncle insisted on a kiss on the lips, a big ol’ smackeroo, I turned my cheek. Even at age five, and…
We want human consciousness, one of life’s last great mysteries, to be special. To be a spark of divine fire, or at the very least a set of proprietary neurons born of our brain’s majestic complexity. Descartes was so sure that only humans were conscious, he dissected bunnies and…