When I pressed play, I was pleasantly surprised. This podcast reminds me a lot of Radiolab, an NPR science podcast I love and listen to regularly, and I didn't realise that there were any other radio shows that were set up in quite the same way. I may have to start regularly listening to this one as well.
I had heard of Cindy Sherman and her movie stills before, and if that happened to me at one of her shows, I would have no idea what to think. I thought Cindy Sherman's reaction to hearing what had happened to the hosts was interesting. She seemed to have some respect for this woman because, more or less, this woman was doing the same thing that Cindy does in her work, pretending to be someone else. This seems like a fairly inconsequential masquerade, unlike some of the other instances of pretenders talked about later in the episode.
The second story, about the man who was lonely after a breakup and pretended to be the person strangers in a cafe had agreed to meet up with just so he could talk to someone, really does remind me of something I would hear on Radiolab. It's not farfetched, but it's an odd response to being lonely. You can't really make friends if you're pretending to be someone else, and in the long run, friends are what someone lonely needs, or else the loneliness is not going to go away. If he were himself, however, he might have a chance of making some kind of lasting relationship with new people he meets, and therefore the problem might eventually not be a problem anymore. There would be a sense of power though, and simultaneous powerlessness, I think, in pretending to be the person these people are expecting, because you can meet such different people, and, as the character in the story was able to do, make these people nervous and respectful of you by manipulating their apparent situation. But at the same time, there is powerlessness in not knowing anything about them and having to improvise your way through the meeting, hoping you don't get yourself in trouble by picking up a wrong clue from context.
I think the journalistic piece was more about the merits of hyperlocal vs. local vs. outsourced journalism than the assumption of a fake identity, though the company was not entirely transparent about how they were operating, even to its employees. There are upsides and downsides to what the company does, and upsides and downsides to its opacity. Like the journalist who was interviewed said, it feels wrong, and the people who are being paid to type up these stories are not reporting properly because they're not invested in what they're reporting or who they're reporting it to. Like the founder of the company said, it's a good way to get the backlogged stories out of the way so that real, local journalists can take on the more important stories and be invested in the stories and their audiences. The company may not want to reveal its sources because people will have opinions about whether or not what they're doing is wrong and especially deceptive. But they may want to, because then at least no one can accuse them of being dishonest.
The piece by Jackie Clark about her step mother and father illustrates a much more consequential instance, not necessarily of a false identity, but of not disclosing the whole truth about yourself. I know about something similar that happened to a close friend of mine, but I will not divulge details because they are not my business to divulge. For a while though, it becomes unclear what sort of relationship you're supposed to have with this person who was so close to you for so long but had another side you didn't know about. I can understand why Clark did not write off her father right away. He was her father, she couldn't instantly stop loving him. I'm relieved that instead of being hurt and not wanting to talk to him at all, she at least considered the possibility that there was some very understandable cause that led him to pursue this secret relationship and keep it a lie from his wife and children.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Lists.
List 1: Books I have read.
I have chosen here to include books that made me think a lot while or after reading them, not just books I have read that I enjoyed but that may not have had as profound an impact.
Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson
I have chosen here to include books that made me think a lot while or after reading them, not just books I have read that I enjoyed but that may not have had as profound an impact.
Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson
A brilliant sci-fi novel that explores the world of nanoscience and innovative entertainment technology in a Neo-Victorian way. The story of a young girl facing unlikely odds who becomes the hero of her time.
Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin
A meditation on the possibilities of the afterlife. Though this is a novel for teens, I really liked the story because it was a creative model of the afterlife, but it also relates very well to life. It's a great example of recovery after loss, something that I struggle with all too often.
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
I didn't know who Neil Gaiman was when I first picked up this book in a small-town bookstore because it looked interesting, I was spending the summer with my grandmother, I was bored, and I wanted to read something. I loved it. I haven't gotten through most of his other books yet except for Coraline, which was written brilliantly, I might add, even though it's for kids, but I would like to. I enjoy him as a writer. This is the story of an underground (in both senses of the word) London separate from the London above ground. A regular ol' guy gets swept up in this world on a dark, magically, but really cool adventure.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
Need I say more? This book is hilarious. Admittedly I haven't read all the stories that make up the Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide, but I'm working on it. I honestly keep forgetting that this book exists and then kicking myself for it.
List 2: Books I want to read.
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Being a creative writing minor, I wrote a story last semester for my fiction class that I was told tackled ideas somewhat similar to concepts brought up in this book. I've heard it's very good and have been meaning to acquire it.
A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin
I didn't get into Game of Thrones when it first aired on television and became really popular, but my boyfriend, who had read the books, and I watched a few episodes and I started to follow some of the character's stories. He assured me that the books were very good and that I would enjoy reading them, so I'll give them a try.
Sum by David Eagleman
Not being religious, I'm very interested in contemplations of an afterlife that is different from the traditional afterlives outlined in modern religions. I am an avid Radiolab listener, in fact I just listened to the episode that is based partly off of an excerpt from this book last night, and that's how I was led to want to read this. David Eagleman is a neuroscientist as well, but I think the imaginations of scientists are fantastic things and that this would be really interesting. I've heard it's not a sciency read and would be rather interesting for anyone, not just people who are really into neuroscience (I certainly don't know much about it, though I find explanations of things I can understand to be immensely interesting).
List 3: People I find inspiring
Most of the people I find inspiring are classmates, teachers, or people I don't know that just have some quality that I notice, feel I lack, and wish I had.
But if I had to come up with some people who are more recognisable.....
This might be cliche, but I have to say Steve Jobs is one of them. One of my first assignments in my journalism class a couple schools back was to watch a video of the commencement speech Steve Jobs gave at Stanford University and write an article about it. In watching this, he gave a brief autobiography, advice, and a lot of encouragement to those graduating. His main point was to never give up on what you want to do, even if there doesn't seem to be a way to get there. Make your own path. I found it very motivational.
Carl Sagan, a very notable cosmologist and general Renaissance man who explains what we know about the universe and how we know it in his series Cosmos, episodes of which can be found floating around on the internet. Here is an excerpt from one episode:
Obama. I'm not American and I can't vote, and I'm really not all that political and don't want to get that way, but this guy's cool. I wouldn't want to be president because it doesn't sound like very much fun but I really think this guy's doing the best he can and is making some pretty good decisions.
List 4: Music I like.
Coldplay. One of my favourite artists, and one of the bands I've liked for the longest amount of time. Sadly, this song is a little too pertinent right now, but I still really like it. I like older stuff better than most of what's on Mylo Xyloto, their newest album.
Opeth. They're actually a progressive metal band (I like progressive metal, and I have no problem with heavy screaming, though I will spare you any of that here), but they also do a lot of beautiful acoustic pieces and some lighter metal (with Opeth, I gravitate more to the songs that are done in this style). His voice is spectacular, and they're one of the best bands I've seen live. This is a song that's nice and light, so I promise there's not reason to be afraid to press play.
Florence and the Machine. I don't like everything I've heard from her, but her voice is so strong and incredible. Here is my favourite song:
Simon Fraser Univeristy Pipe Band. This is a University in the Vancouver area (actually had I never left Vancouver I might have gone there, it's also my dad's alma mater) with several grade levels of pipe bands. Their Grade I (the highest) has won the world championship several times, and they're celebrities in the Canadian Scottish community (The pipe major also owns a local dance and piping supply store, and his neice won the Highland Dancing World Championships, so they're a big deal). I really have never heard another band as good as they are. This also happens to be them opening for Vancouver's home hockey team, the Canucks, at their first game of the season a few years ago. Also, check out this other video for a more traditional performance by them. This is a medley, which is a blend of several different tunes, but the fast paced one right before they play the really slow bit is Flora MacDonald's Fancy, which is the tune for a highland dance as well. Also in here is a highland reel, which is one of the only highland dances that is not performed individually. Most pipe bands do not include so much harmony in their performances, which is one reason SFU is so fantastic.
And my other three favourite songs right now: I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons (though I like a lot of what I've heard from them, a lot, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons (though I'm not sure I like much else by them) and Little Black Submarines by The Black Keys.
Also, Radiolab by NPR. A Science and Technology podcast for ordinary but curious people. Not music, but this is what I most often listen to when I'm driving.
List 5: Places I have lived
I feel that the places I have lived have influenced me a lot because they all have very unique cultural flavours.
Calgary, Alberta
I feel that the places I have lived have influenced me a lot because they all have very unique cultural flavours.
Calgary, Alberta
Famous for its Calgary Stampede every summer, Calgary is an ever-growing city a couple hours east of the Canadian Rockies. It has a very country-western feel to it, but it's a haven for the more outdoorsy adventurous types as well. I was born there and only lived there until I was almost seven years old, so it didn't have a huge impact on me, and frankly, it's not my favourite place to visit.
Honolulu, Hawaii
I turned seven years old a couple weeks after we moved here and we lived there for three years. I attended grades 2, 3, 4, and 5, and my dad worked at the cultural museum. It was a pretty cool place to live. In school we learned a lot of culture, including Hawaiian history and Hula, and some of the Hawaiian and Japanese languages. On weekends we either went sailing, snorkeling, or to the beach.
Vancouver, British Columbia
I lived here twice: once immediately after Hawaii, and once on my own two years ago. An incredibly beautiful coastal and mountainous city in the pacific northwest, this has probably been my favourite place to live. It's where I say I'm from even though I wasn't born there, because it's where my dad grew up, where we spent our vacations visiting my grandmother, and probably the most deeply engrained in who I am culturally. The problem with Vancouver is, though, that it rains a lot, and it's a fairly big city. I had trouble being there on my own because I found it hard to meet people, and the weather can be really depressing if you're already not the happiest you could possibly be. I hope to move back there one day though, but hopefully not on my own.
Daytona Beach, Florida
My dad moved here when I was thirteen, my mum and I when I was fourteen. This was an extremely difficult adjustment for me to make after Vancouver, and for a long time I was very unhappy about it. I still don't like Daytona very much, but I have at least learned to appreciate Florida's weather and drivability. Maybe I could live here (Florida, not Daytona) again in a very long time from now, but for now the plan is to leave once I'm done with my degree at Flagler.
Asheville, North Carolina
My first year out of high school, I moved to Asheville to go to a school in Swannanoa (about 20 miles away from the city). It was a very rural, very small community with very liberal notions. It was really interesting, but I decided as the end of the school year came up that it wasn't a good fit and returned to Daytona.
Momento: Response to Christopher Turner's Inventory/The Tokens
When I first read the phrase "women with their unwanted babies," I was actually disgusted and horrified. Adoption is not a foreign concept in our society, but somehow reading the date again after missing the year the first time and realising that this is a story of what happened in 1741 added enough distance to it to make it just sad and not so terrible.
When looking at the images of the shreds of clothing preserved in the records to identify children and the various assortment of objects left with them, I am reminded of accounts I have heard of the Holocaust museum in Washington D.C. There is a significant difference in scale between these two incidences, but I remember listening to someone who had gone to visit the museum--I think it was my high school AP English teacher--describe the place, and there is a common theme. In the museum, my English teacher said, the thing that got to him the most were the shoes. The shoes of victims of the Holocaust are artefacts in one of the exhibits, worn, old, and empty. And seeing those shoes in the museum elicited the strongest emotional response from my teacher, more than anything else on display.
This reading was a physical handout, and when I first got it, I glossed over the text, flipped through the pages, and saw the page that is taken up entirely by the image of various objects. There is a beaded necklace or bracelet with a coin in the centre of it like a pendant or charm. There's an old key, a thimble, a ring, a large coin cut in half across its diameter, and a round, shiny, metal object that honestly reminds me of the button off of a pair of jeans. There's what looks like a wooden button, a long, lean, slit-eyed ivory fish, and a cuff with a padlock attached to it. There's a swatch of cloth, roughly frayed, with the letters M and D embroidered into it. There's a large round metal badge with letters raised on it that don't seem to spell anything, but read "S ETHEL BURGA AND S' SWITHIN" and maybe a date underneath where the shadow in the photo makes it impossible to see if there's anything else there or not. There's a metal plate with the word "ALE" and another smaller one that says "Ann Higs." There are more personal objects at the bottom: a tag shaped almost like a rounded off heart with fine script engraved on its surface that is too hard to read in the picture, but there is a date on it. There is a larger metal heart with the letters E and L engraved onto it. And there is what looks like a roughly shapen rectangular metal place or wedge, and on it is messily written, "James Son of James Concannon, late or now of Jamaica, 1757."
Some of them look sort of old, but the metal objects are still shiny, and text has not faded. While obviously some of them are very personal, about half of them also just seem like every day objects, things you would find lying around the house in the backs of drawers or cabinets when you empty them to retrieve a baking pan that doesn't get used much or in your pants pockets when you pull out the insides before doing the laundry, or maybe in the box of things you keep in your garden shed or crafting room that you get very little use out of because you don't actually garden or craft much. In the same way, shoes are just objects. We all own at least one pair (I should hope), we go to stores to buy them and they hold no emotional significance there, we sometimes give away a pair to someone with the same size as us if we have a pair that is uncomfortable or doesn't fit right, and that person might wear them and never stop to think again about how he or she acquired them. We sometimes see them on the side of the road and we usually think, "Oh, someone lost a shoe," in that gosh-darn swing-your-arm kind of tone. But most commonly, there is very little to no emotional impact from an object like this. Until you attach a story to them, these objects are inconsequential. But as soon as you flip back to the first page of this article and actually start to read about why they're featured here, you look back at that second page and they suddenly have human-like characteristics. They seem to emanate desperation or uncommunicable love or carelessness. Some of them seem to emanate grief or a wish of luck. Most of them say these things without any visible text or indication of ownership. They are not just objects anymore.
When looking at the images of the shreds of clothing preserved in the records to identify children and the various assortment of objects left with them, I am reminded of accounts I have heard of the Holocaust museum in Washington D.C. There is a significant difference in scale between these two incidences, but I remember listening to someone who had gone to visit the museum--I think it was my high school AP English teacher--describe the place, and there is a common theme. In the museum, my English teacher said, the thing that got to him the most were the shoes. The shoes of victims of the Holocaust are artefacts in one of the exhibits, worn, old, and empty. And seeing those shoes in the museum elicited the strongest emotional response from my teacher, more than anything else on display.
This reading was a physical handout, and when I first got it, I glossed over the text, flipped through the pages, and saw the page that is taken up entirely by the image of various objects. There is a beaded necklace or bracelet with a coin in the centre of it like a pendant or charm. There's an old key, a thimble, a ring, a large coin cut in half across its diameter, and a round, shiny, metal object that honestly reminds me of the button off of a pair of jeans. There's what looks like a wooden button, a long, lean, slit-eyed ivory fish, and a cuff with a padlock attached to it. There's a swatch of cloth, roughly frayed, with the letters M and D embroidered into it. There's a large round metal badge with letters raised on it that don't seem to spell anything, but read "S ETHEL BURGA AND S' SWITHIN" and maybe a date underneath where the shadow in the photo makes it impossible to see if there's anything else there or not. There's a metal plate with the word "ALE" and another smaller one that says "Ann Higs." There are more personal objects at the bottom: a tag shaped almost like a rounded off heart with fine script engraved on its surface that is too hard to read in the picture, but there is a date on it. There is a larger metal heart with the letters E and L engraved onto it. And there is what looks like a roughly shapen rectangular metal place or wedge, and on it is messily written, "James Son of James Concannon, late or now of Jamaica, 1757."
Some of them look sort of old, but the metal objects are still shiny, and text has not faded. While obviously some of them are very personal, about half of them also just seem like every day objects, things you would find lying around the house in the backs of drawers or cabinets when you empty them to retrieve a baking pan that doesn't get used much or in your pants pockets when you pull out the insides before doing the laundry, or maybe in the box of things you keep in your garden shed or crafting room that you get very little use out of because you don't actually garden or craft much. In the same way, shoes are just objects. We all own at least one pair (I should hope), we go to stores to buy them and they hold no emotional significance there, we sometimes give away a pair to someone with the same size as us if we have a pair that is uncomfortable or doesn't fit right, and that person might wear them and never stop to think again about how he or she acquired them. We sometimes see them on the side of the road and we usually think, "Oh, someone lost a shoe," in that gosh-darn swing-your-arm kind of tone. But most commonly, there is very little to no emotional impact from an object like this. Until you attach a story to them, these objects are inconsequential. But as soon as you flip back to the first page of this article and actually start to read about why they're featured here, you look back at that second page and they suddenly have human-like characteristics. They seem to emanate desperation or uncommunicable love or carelessness. Some of them seem to emanate grief or a wish of luck. Most of them say these things without any visible text or indication of ownership. They are not just objects anymore.
Paper Stacking: Repsonse to Excerpts from Diane Ackerman's Touch
I honestly had not realised how important the sense of touch is. I understood it from a survival sense, in that a sensation of pain on the skin allows us to know when we have been injured so that we can take proper care of the injury and ensure our overall health. I understood it from the sense of a romantic relationship, the sense of longing for the physical presence of the other person after being away from them for a long period of time, just wanting to be held, to be next to someone warm. The horror you feel at end of a relationship at the realisation that you can't touch that person anymore. You can't kiss them, you can't hold them, and you can't caress their skin anymore.
My graphic design teacher said something yesterday about why texture and three-dimensional elements are important to graphic design, even though it is most often thought of as a two-dimensional field. She said that our sense of touch is important to confirming to us that something is real. We see it with our eyes, yes, but we still must feel something to know exactly what or how it is, to know that it is what we thought it was, to know that it's safe. So I began to understand it that way, as well. Diane Ackerman made a similar point when she said that we use our sense of touch to gain an understanding of ourselves, that a mirror would be useless to us if we could not also touch ourselves to understand what we look like in three-dimensions and where we are in space. I suppose I had known this in some way, but I had not thought about it consciously.
What got to me the most was the story Ackerman told in the beginning, about premature babies functioning better when they were regularly touched. I had heard about the rats being licked on an episode of NPR's Radiolab, but they talked about it in a way that was more scientifically linked to the rats' likelihood for health complications or readiness for reproduction than about their general well being, and I had not thought about the effect that would have on an animal, or a person. When she talked about the monkeys that had been deprived of being touched and the problems that resulted from this deprivation, I realised how important it is to psychological and physiological health. My long-distance boyfriend and I are going through an argument right now and potentially breaking up, against my will, so this struck a particularly loud and poignant chord with me personally. Ackerman says, "In the absence of touching and being touched, people of all ages can sicken and grow touch-starved." And I thought about how true that was. Our relationship would seem better if I could just see his face, for one thing. But I couldn't not think about how badly I just wanted to stand there and hold him, how much better that would make me feel.
My graphic design teacher said something yesterday about why texture and three-dimensional elements are important to graphic design, even though it is most often thought of as a two-dimensional field. She said that our sense of touch is important to confirming to us that something is real. We see it with our eyes, yes, but we still must feel something to know exactly what or how it is, to know that it is what we thought it was, to know that it's safe. So I began to understand it that way, as well. Diane Ackerman made a similar point when she said that we use our sense of touch to gain an understanding of ourselves, that a mirror would be useless to us if we could not also touch ourselves to understand what we look like in three-dimensions and where we are in space. I suppose I had known this in some way, but I had not thought about it consciously.
What got to me the most was the story Ackerman told in the beginning, about premature babies functioning better when they were regularly touched. I had heard about the rats being licked on an episode of NPR's Radiolab, but they talked about it in a way that was more scientifically linked to the rats' likelihood for health complications or readiness for reproduction than about their general well being, and I had not thought about the effect that would have on an animal, or a person. When she talked about the monkeys that had been deprived of being touched and the problems that resulted from this deprivation, I realised how important it is to psychological and physiological health. My long-distance boyfriend and I are going through an argument right now and potentially breaking up, against my will, so this struck a particularly loud and poignant chord with me personally. Ackerman says, "In the absence of touching and being touched, people of all ages can sicken and grow touch-starved." And I thought about how true that was. Our relationship would seem better if I could just see his face, for one thing. But I couldn't not think about how badly I just wanted to stand there and hold him, how much better that would make me feel.
It's About Time: Response to Janine Antoni
I had seen the lick and lather piece before but was less familiar with Antoni's other works. After seeing the pieces and hearing the explanations and processes, I have a new found appreciation for her as an artist. The first piece in the video, the rope piece, was particularly uplifting because it acknowledges the importance of other people in a person's life. I do not have many people I would weave into a rope of my own, but the ones who would make it there are extremely important to my life, and I wouldn't be who I am without them.
I liked that the displacement piece, the lard in the bathtub, related all the way back to the first measure of volume with Archimedes. Origin stories like that are something I really enjoy, and I'd like to find more ways to incorporate them into my own art and graphic design. Oddly, when she described the piece, it seemed to be the least personal, even though it was essentially a cast of her whole body. I had seen her paint with her hair before as well and appreciate her inventiveness with the mark-making process. That piece also reminds me of a piece by another artist, whose name I forget, who used the entire body as a mark making device, not just a part of it, by removing the clothing, covering the body with paint, and lying down on the canvas to make a print. In my postmodern studio class at my previous school, one of my classmates emulated this piece by covering herself in chocolate sauce and making a print and the effect, even though it was not an original idea, was somehow profound.
I particularly respect Antoni's research process, and I admire her ability to come up with ideas somewhat spontaneously, as it seems she did when she was at the dairy farm. Her willingness to interact with the cows in such a way, something I might want to do but be too afraid or self conscious to do, really did result in a piece that makes a statement not just about herself or about the cow but about humans almost universally. In an interesting sort of contradiction, the rawhide piece portrays both the extreme vulnerability of the cow and the consciousness of this vulnerability and the caring attitude of some humans such as Antoni. However, though she seems to sympathise with the cow by adopting this anamalistic, submissive pose, the piece is constructed out of the skin of a cow. The irony almost creates a paradox that I don't think you could think your way out of.
What I would be most excited to do as an artist that Antoni has the opportunity to do is to really delve into the research for each piece, most notably the tightrope pieces. The pieces may seem simple and have a short run time once they are complete, but the fact that she spent weeks learning how to walk a tightrope and learned and practised using a spinning wheel to spin hemp rope adds whole dimensions of experience to the viewing of the pieces. The horizon video had a very... happy is not quite the right word. It had an almost victorious air to it because it was so personal. She'd looked at that horizon as she was growing up, and maybe as a little girl of 5 or 6, wished she could walk out there. And then, 20, 30 something years later, she is able to create this piece that really creates that illusion. Knowing that while viewing it is just so powerful.
Lick and lather itself was a piece I really liked the first time I saw it. I think the soap half of it is a little more effective than the chocolate half for a few reasons; The soap piece has more continuity to it now that I understand that soap is made from lard. So you have the body being made into this material with which we clean the body, and you also have this material being made into an actual representation of the artist's body, with which the artist is cleaning herself. Chocolate, though, is made from plant matter (though in a more extreme philosophical sense you could also consider this a body), so really the only iteration of the artist's self in the piece is the fact that the bust is a representation of herself, with which she feeds herself. Washing the bust is also a more effective method of eroding it than licking is for the chocolate bust. It would take much more effort to wear down the chocolate bust to the same extent as for the soap bust. She constructed another piece that I believe were part of the same exhibit, which was a large chocolate block that she had gnawed at the corners. I can't remember if there was also a soap block. One thing I got out of this piece though pertaining to the soap carvings we will do is that, in thinking about what ways in which I can alter my second sculpture, I had forgotten to consider using the piece like a regular bar of soap as an option. I have chosen a bear for my piece, and I think it would mean a lot less to use a small soap bear to wash myself than it would to use a bust of myself, but I think it may be one of the most effective ways pertaining to the material to show the passage of time.
I liked that the displacement piece, the lard in the bathtub, related all the way back to the first measure of volume with Archimedes. Origin stories like that are something I really enjoy, and I'd like to find more ways to incorporate them into my own art and graphic design. Oddly, when she described the piece, it seemed to be the least personal, even though it was essentially a cast of her whole body. I had seen her paint with her hair before as well and appreciate her inventiveness with the mark-making process. That piece also reminds me of a piece by another artist, whose name I forget, who used the entire body as a mark making device, not just a part of it, by removing the clothing, covering the body with paint, and lying down on the canvas to make a print. In my postmodern studio class at my previous school, one of my classmates emulated this piece by covering herself in chocolate sauce and making a print and the effect, even though it was not an original idea, was somehow profound.
I particularly respect Antoni's research process, and I admire her ability to come up with ideas somewhat spontaneously, as it seems she did when she was at the dairy farm. Her willingness to interact with the cows in such a way, something I might want to do but be too afraid or self conscious to do, really did result in a piece that makes a statement not just about herself or about the cow but about humans almost universally. In an interesting sort of contradiction, the rawhide piece portrays both the extreme vulnerability of the cow and the consciousness of this vulnerability and the caring attitude of some humans such as Antoni. However, though she seems to sympathise with the cow by adopting this anamalistic, submissive pose, the piece is constructed out of the skin of a cow. The irony almost creates a paradox that I don't think you could think your way out of.
What I would be most excited to do as an artist that Antoni has the opportunity to do is to really delve into the research for each piece, most notably the tightrope pieces. The pieces may seem simple and have a short run time once they are complete, but the fact that she spent weeks learning how to walk a tightrope and learned and practised using a spinning wheel to spin hemp rope adds whole dimensions of experience to the viewing of the pieces. The horizon video had a very... happy is not quite the right word. It had an almost victorious air to it because it was so personal. She'd looked at that horizon as she was growing up, and maybe as a little girl of 5 or 6, wished she could walk out there. And then, 20, 30 something years later, she is able to create this piece that really creates that illusion. Knowing that while viewing it is just so powerful.
Lick and lather itself was a piece I really liked the first time I saw it. I think the soap half of it is a little more effective than the chocolate half for a few reasons; The soap piece has more continuity to it now that I understand that soap is made from lard. So you have the body being made into this material with which we clean the body, and you also have this material being made into an actual representation of the artist's body, with which the artist is cleaning herself. Chocolate, though, is made from plant matter (though in a more extreme philosophical sense you could also consider this a body), so really the only iteration of the artist's self in the piece is the fact that the bust is a representation of herself, with which she feeds herself. Washing the bust is also a more effective method of eroding it than licking is for the chocolate bust. It would take much more effort to wear down the chocolate bust to the same extent as for the soap bust. She constructed another piece that I believe were part of the same exhibit, which was a large chocolate block that she had gnawed at the corners. I can't remember if there was also a soap block. One thing I got out of this piece though pertaining to the soap carvings we will do is that, in thinking about what ways in which I can alter my second sculpture, I had forgotten to consider using the piece like a regular bar of soap as an option. I have chosen a bear for my piece, and I think it would mean a lot less to use a small soap bear to wash myself than it would to use a bust of myself, but I think it may be one of the most effective ways pertaining to the material to show the passage of time.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Response to Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis
Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis is a story written mostly from the point of view of a young man named Gregor, who has returned to his family home for a brief stay in between travels necessitated by his job as a traveling salesman. On the morning of his planned departure, he oversleeps and then finds himself unable to get out of his bed due to his transformation into a large beetle-like creature. He now has a scaled underbelly, spindly legs, and a hard, shell-like back.
Upon finding him like this, his family is initially horrified, and never really come about over time. His sister, to whom Gregor is the closest, is the least put-off by his new state, and begins to take care of him, cleaning the room and bringing him food. Over time, however, as his state does not improve, she too loses her enthusiasm for his care. Although Gregor still thinks like a human, can understand speech just the same as he could before the change, and seeks to be understood by his family, Gregor's family sees him only as a monstrous creature and rejects the idea that he still has any human understanding.
Though Kafka's very slow plot progression and very detailed writing would receive great criticism in any modern creative writing class, and therefore can prove to be a difficult read, the slowness and detail of the plot help to gradually show Gregor's increasing alienation from his family. By writing in a point of view that delves only into Gregor's head and not into any other character, Kafka has led the reader to sympathise most with Gregor. The reader is able to feel the character's growing depression and small sparks of hope.
In the end, Gregor dies, and the family is able to move on. They are able to move into a smaller apartment, his parents are able to think about marrying off their daughter, and they all work in careers that provide them with reasonable hope for the future. There is no other reconciliation, however. I suppose the theme of the story is that Gregor's prior contribution to the family has been somewhat taken for granted. Initially, he is the only member of the family holding a job, and the family is living in a house that is slightly too large for them with a slightly larger staff than they are able to comfortably afford. They rely on Gregor's payments to pay off their debts, and when he is rendered unable to work, there is a great panic over the family's financial situation. As the family grows accustomed to Gregor's "absence," each member of the family once again begins to work, their staff are steadily dismissed, they attmept to make money from renting to lodgers, and once Gregor truly is absent, they move into a smaller and more affordable living space.
Though it is Gregor who has changed most apparently in this story, it is the family who has changed most significantly, and though Gregor is the main character, the focus is truly on the other members of the family. The cause of Gregor's absence is the strangest thing about this story though. If Gregor is to become something that the family fears and detests and will not attend to, yet they realise that they have been taking Gregor's contributions for granted, I feel that there should be some attempt from the family to communicate with Gregor or to recover him. Otherwise, how is his transformation different from a death, and how is his eventual death significant?
If this is to be more a story about the boundaries between being human and capable and being a creature with a grossly inferior capacity for understanding, thought, and communication, then it seems that the story should be from a point of view that leaves Gregor's thoughts a mystery and reveals the thoughts of the family as they attempt to discover whether the creature truly is still Gregor or not. This is puzzling to me, and perhaps further discussion and thought of the story will make the significance of the actual, physical metamorphosis clearer to me.
*I was uncertain what to include on a vocabulary list, so I have not yet included one. As I read the story, there were no terms that stuck out to me on whose meaning I was unclear. There were no characters or places that I did not understand, as well. I encourage suggestions as to what kinds of things should be on the list other than words whose definitions are unknown to the reader because otherwise I have no idea what to put on my list.
Upon finding him like this, his family is initially horrified, and never really come about over time. His sister, to whom Gregor is the closest, is the least put-off by his new state, and begins to take care of him, cleaning the room and bringing him food. Over time, however, as his state does not improve, she too loses her enthusiasm for his care. Although Gregor still thinks like a human, can understand speech just the same as he could before the change, and seeks to be understood by his family, Gregor's family sees him only as a monstrous creature and rejects the idea that he still has any human understanding.
Though Kafka's very slow plot progression and very detailed writing would receive great criticism in any modern creative writing class, and therefore can prove to be a difficult read, the slowness and detail of the plot help to gradually show Gregor's increasing alienation from his family. By writing in a point of view that delves only into Gregor's head and not into any other character, Kafka has led the reader to sympathise most with Gregor. The reader is able to feel the character's growing depression and small sparks of hope.
In the end, Gregor dies, and the family is able to move on. They are able to move into a smaller apartment, his parents are able to think about marrying off their daughter, and they all work in careers that provide them with reasonable hope for the future. There is no other reconciliation, however. I suppose the theme of the story is that Gregor's prior contribution to the family has been somewhat taken for granted. Initially, he is the only member of the family holding a job, and the family is living in a house that is slightly too large for them with a slightly larger staff than they are able to comfortably afford. They rely on Gregor's payments to pay off their debts, and when he is rendered unable to work, there is a great panic over the family's financial situation. As the family grows accustomed to Gregor's "absence," each member of the family once again begins to work, their staff are steadily dismissed, they attmept to make money from renting to lodgers, and once Gregor truly is absent, they move into a smaller and more affordable living space.
Though it is Gregor who has changed most apparently in this story, it is the family who has changed most significantly, and though Gregor is the main character, the focus is truly on the other members of the family. The cause of Gregor's absence is the strangest thing about this story though. If Gregor is to become something that the family fears and detests and will not attend to, yet they realise that they have been taking Gregor's contributions for granted, I feel that there should be some attempt from the family to communicate with Gregor or to recover him. Otherwise, how is his transformation different from a death, and how is his eventual death significant?
If this is to be more a story about the boundaries between being human and capable and being a creature with a grossly inferior capacity for understanding, thought, and communication, then it seems that the story should be from a point of view that leaves Gregor's thoughts a mystery and reveals the thoughts of the family as they attempt to discover whether the creature truly is still Gregor or not. This is puzzling to me, and perhaps further discussion and thought of the story will make the significance of the actual, physical metamorphosis clearer to me.
*I was uncertain what to include on a vocabulary list, so I have not yet included one. As I read the story, there were no terms that stuck out to me on whose meaning I was unclear. There were no characters or places that I did not understand, as well. I encourage suggestions as to what kinds of things should be on the list other than words whose definitions are unknown to the reader because otherwise I have no idea what to put on my list.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)