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The personalization of this image and text portray an ethnography of ones home. It tells the reader a story that is proven through the writer's experiences. The descriptions of toxic smells put images in my head that derive from similar smell-memories. The city nicknames added to both the visualization, the story, and give the reader something to smile about. All the examples and stories give are something that one can relate to. This toxic visualization wins me over with its heart and honesty. 

The personalization of this image and text portray an ethnography of ones home. It tells the reader a story that is proven through the writer's experiences. The descriptions of toxic smells put images in my head that derive from similar smell-memories. The city nicknames added to both the visualization, the story, and give the reader something to smile about. All the examples and stories provide something that one can relate to. This toxic visualization wins me over with its heart and honesty. 

My initial response was shaped by the deep familiarity with the image, taken from a piece of software I use almost every day. I therefore started looking closer at the image to see if there were any modifications to it. Due to the angle and resoluton, I assumed that it must have been taken with an additional camera. Since I did not find anything out of the ordinary – except for locating El Segundo – I turned to the design statement with more anticipation.

When I first looked at the image, it reminded my of the “god-trick” or “view from nowhere” discussed in Feminist STS in debates on objectivity. This is not surprising given that it is a satellite image. The image description, in turn, is very rich in communicating the history of the place, how toxicity is governed and what it was like to grow up in what is certainly a “toxic assemblage.” The distant and sober satellite image is therefore in contrast to the evocative experience of smell that the image description points to.

When I first looked at the image, I had to think of what Feminist STS calls the “god-trick” or “view from nowhere.” This is not surprising given that it is a satellite image. The image description, in turn, is very rich in communicating the history of the place, how toxicity is governed and what it was like to grow up in what is certainly a “toxic assemblage.” The distant and sober satellite image is therefore in contrast to the evocative experience of smell that the image description points to.

While the image and description point to the absence of sound and smell, it would be interesting to see attempts at folding such data into the map, e.g. base on the recommended odor diaries. 

I'm interpellated as a consumer.  I feel this way because the first thing I thought of was those United Color of Benneton ads that have been widely analyzed and critiqued.  Arraying and framing "diversity" like this -- framed collectively, and framed individually, where each aimge becomes a "type," individual differences neverhteless reflecting some "species" (race) identity - makes it safe for consumption.  Fifty shades of gray, but they're all unified in or by their grayness - buy one now!  But this capitalist logic disguises its toxic effect on difference...

This image on its own portrays a happy demeanor and seems to give the viewer something to smile about. Knowing the theme of toxic subjects magnifies the curiosity of what the accompanying text will say. The text does an amazing job of providing the viewer something to ponder while providing background and facts on current issues. 

Much like your previous images, I feel as though this one does a lot of work to discuss and visualize the historical formations behind categories such as "Latinx." In situating this image in reference to you the police report, particularly the ways in which anti-Blackness and anti-Mexicanness get expressed, I wonder about the intersections between the two? In what ways is anti-Blackness embedded into Mexican history? What does this mean for afro-Mexican's? How are the histories of afro-Mexicans erased in both Mexican and US contexts.

typescript report.  someone (almost certainly a woman) was sitting at a desk in a police office in 1971 that you've seen in movies or on tv a dozen times, pounding away on typewriter keys to impress these black-inked characters on a blank piece of white paper.