Creating a Space for Discussion (Discussion Group Participation)

       The great thing about our discussion group was that everyone had great ideas.  Each of us became passionate at interpreting Equus, realizing how the play could be viewed through several theoretical lenses.  We were eager to share our ideas with each other, constantly emailing back and forth to communicate with the group.  But emails proved to be ineffective.  In order to trace the ongoing conversation, we would have to open several windows.  Hence, as a group, we agreed that a blog would be a great way to communicate with each other and not only that, it would a space where we could compile materials that we might use on our presentation day.
      As a tangible contribution to the group, I set up and designed the blog which was our space for discussion.  Being a large group, the best way for us to organize our thoughts was through discussion.  We needed to talk out the possibilities before us in order to reach a consensus.  The blog evidences the different ideas the group considered as we prepared for our presentation.
      But of course, our blog is only a space for discussion.  If there was any important contribution to our group's presentation that should be considered, I believe it to be the sharing of ideas, of the possibilities in the text we were explicating.  In sharing, we not only learned different views but we also played a role in supporting and establishing the ideas of our peers.

http://equus638.blogspot.com/

Who are you? Can we really articulate who we are?

In this scene from Disney's Alice in Wonderland, the caterpillar asks Alice who she is.  She explains that she does not know who she is because she has undergone several changes since the morning.  While the changes that Alice refers to are merely changes in size and height, she seems to be under the impression that these changes affect the core of who she is as a person.  This scene begs the question, how do we define ourselves?  Is definition found in what we see our image to be? Or, is self-definition more than the image we face in the mirror?

Alice's inability to define who she is suggests that her notion of self is connected with the image that reflects back at her in the mirror.  In other words, she is at what Lacan calls the "mirror stage," a stage where a child "finds reflected back to itself in the mirror a gratifyingly unified image of itself" (Eagleton 143).  Alice identifies with the image in the mirror, an image that seems to reflect a particular size and height and thus, a particular identity.  The changes in her physicality signals for Alice a change in self-definition.  This is because the mirror stage resides in the realm of the imaginary and "[t]he imaginary for Lacan is precisely this realm of images in which we make identifications, but in the very act of doing so are led to misperceive and misrecognize ourselves" (Eagleton 143).  In this sense, Alice does not yet have a "true" notion of self.  Alice's self-definition is a misrecognition of what or who she is, defined solely by the physical reflection found in the mirror.  She is still at the stage of narcissism where selfhood is fictional.  She has yet to arrive at the point where she can truly articulate who she is outside of the mirror.

Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2008. Print.

Formalism and Structuralism. . .Missing Out on the Magic

Vincent Van Gogh - Trees And Undergrowth, Paris, Summer 1887

 

Formalism posits that "literary language consists of an act of defamiliarization" (Rivkin and Ryan 3).  Through defamiliarization, the 'normal' perspective is opened to something new, something out of the ordinary  For the Formalists, literature opens eyes through the defamiliarization of language, through the use of literary devices that 'dresses' up the ordinary.  Hence, their study focuses on the literary devices present in an artful text. 

But if we were to focus always on formal methods, won't we miss the big picture.  If we were to focus always on the particulars, won't we miss experience. 

Perhaps, the same questions apply to Structuralism.  Like Formalism, Structuralism thinks of literature as something more than it seems.  Structuralism "refuses the 'obvious' meaning of the story and seeks to instead to isolate certain 'deep' structures within it, which are not apparent on the surface" (Eagleton 83).  Structuralists are focused on the 'signs' within the text; signs that have some deeper meaning other than what they are.

While elements, devices, language do contribute to the message, I think that focusing on those things will sometimes mean missing out on the big picture.  I believe that art, whether written, drawn or spoken, should be experienced as a whole and not in parts. 

A great example is the examination of Van Gogh's Trees and Undergrowth.  Upclose, no real picture is visible.  All that are discernible are brushstrokes varying in colors and degrees.  But from afar, a picture forms.  Trees and leaves, branches and roots begin to emerge.  The whole emerges and beauty becomes more apparent.

While Van Gogh's brushstrokes in itself might mean something, meaning is more obvious from a distance.  Putting everything together as a whole makes more sense than isolating parts into units. 

Meaning is derived not from isolation but rather from socialization, from dialogic relationships. A picture is created not because its parts are isolated from each other but because the parts form a whole, each part dependent on each other to create meaning.

Perhaps, Bakhtin's theory that everything is social and dialogic, receiving and giving meaning through relations with an other makes more sense.  Certainly, brushstrokes only makes sense through connection and blending.  As parts, they cannot make a whole.  Unified they create for a magnificent picture.

Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2008. Print.
Rivkin, Julie and Michael Ryan. Introduction: Formalisms. Literary Theory: An Anthology. 2nd ed. Malden: Blackwell, 2004. Print.

Just a thought. . .

The carnival, it seems like, is an interruption on institutional society.  It is a refocusing on the human cycle, with emphasis on human-ness.  Suspending belief, the carnival focuses on the human energy that exists within its space.  It is the celebration of the consciousness of human difference, human otherness.

Sins, Tragedies and the Carnivalesque

Studying Francois Rabelais’ work Gargantua and Pantagruel, Mikhail Bakhtin espouses the notion of the carnivalesque, a theory that emphasizes the importance of “otherness” and the transient nature of things.  For Bakhtin, the “[c]arnival is not a spectacle seen by the people; they live in it, and everyone participates because its very idea embraces all the people” (Bakhtin 7).  Essentially, what Bakhtin emphasizes is that the seemingly grotesque world of the carnival is symbolic, or at least metaphoric, of the nature of society, of the world at large.  The carnival is universal, honest and upfront.  Moreover, it does not seek to represent a portion of society but rather applies to all of society, to everybody.

One important element imbedded in the Bakhtinian notion of the carnival is that it is a space where everybody is equal, where hierarchy and social divides are not applicable.   The carnival is a safe space where dominant social and institutional ideologies are overturned, questioned and even parodied.  This owes largely to the carnival element that nothing is permanent or concrete.  Hence, the carnivalesque or grotesque bodies that pervade the carnival represent “a body in the act of becoming.  It is never finished, never completed; it is continually built, created” (Bakhtin 317).  Carnivalesque bodies, what might be deemed freakish according to societal principles of normalcy, are in fact bodies that not only represent the social others but also the continuum of humanity.  To be human is to be involved in a continual process of growth, never being but always becoming.  This becoming is symbolized by the different bodies of the carnival, bodies that are extended, bulging, growing, excreting and excessive. 

The continual process of becoming is further emphasized by Bakhtin’s dialogic principle which contends that “meaning is understood as something still in the process of creation, something still bending toward the future as opposed to that which is already completed” (Holquist 24).  If the carnival is a space where “degradation” is the main concern, where “acts of defecation and copulation, conception, pregnancy and birth” represent the continual conception and renewal of the earth, so does the dialogic emphasize the notion that meaning, notions of self and being, are temporal and spatial as it is continually involved in a process of renewal and creation (Rivkin and Ryan 688).  Meaning is not permanent because it relies on the perception of an other.  The emphasis is that “the site of knowledge is never unitary” and “the very capacity to have consciousness is based on otherness” (Holquist 18).  To conceive a notion self means to be in a dialogic relation with another who will serve as a perceptive mirror; but the reflection only lasts for as long as the dialogue is ongoing.

A visual example of Bakhtin’s carnivalesque and dialogic principle is evident in the music video for “I Write Sins not Tragedies” by Panic at the Disco.  The narrative of the video begins with a wedding where the bride and groom are portrayed as seemingly in love with each other.  However, this idealistic setting is broken by the entrance of a singing ringmaster who leads a troop of circus characters.  As these circus people sit on the groom side of the chapel, they are juxtaposed to the guests on the bride’s side of the room.  Comparing the two sets of guests, the circus group is expressive, moving and seemingly “free” while the other guests have painted faces, masks that do not reflect emotion or anything.  The bride is upset by the entrance of this circus group and runs off leaving the groom at the altar.  As the narrative continues, the groom discovers that his beloved bride is cheating on him, thus shattering the illusion of love he had embraced.

The interruption of the carnivalesque group upon such a serious and institutional moment hints at the illusiveness of such an institution.  That is, weddings often connote notions of forever and happily ever after.  But as Bakhtin contends, there is nothing in the world that is permanent for everything is involved in death and renewal.  The great difference between the two sets of guests further emphasizes this notion as the bride’s guests represent society that is frozen by institution.  In contrast, the movement of the groom’s guests shows how the carnival life is about being free, about moving, and about celebration.

Furthermore, the video illustrates the overturning of a social institution that is a mark of normalcy.  The parody on the wedding and marriage evinces the negative to the positive.  The implication being that there is always the “other” side to everything.  The reference to the carnival, a space where otherness resides, emphasizes that the world functions not from a singular view rather in multiplicity.  The perception of the other as an important element in becoming is illustrated in the groom’s realization of his bride’s indiscretion.  That is, through his bride’s eye he sees a notion of self that is defined as being a loving groom, a devoted husband- to- be while the ringmaster reveals to him another self, the revelation that he is a victim of illusion and the love he believed in was a lie.  Essentially, the video illustrates the notion that not only is nothing eternal but that an understanding of the self differs as it is reflected by different people. 

Indeed, the video has many carnival references; references that show a subversion of social ideals, of notions of normalcy, and of institutions.  But more importantly, the video evinces the multiple sides of society coming together in one space where the divide is broken.  As the circus group dances with the uptight guests, the chapel becomes a carnival space of oneness, of unified celebration.  While there is much to explicate, the most important idea to note is that the video shows how life is a carnival where change happens, illusions are shattered, and everyone is unified.

Bakhtin, Mikhail. Rabelais and His World. Trans. Helene Iswolssky. Cambridge: M.I.T. Press,
     1968. Print.
Holquist, Michael. Dialogism: Bakhtin and his World. London: Routledge, 1990. Print.

A Sublime Ending

            What is the sublime?  In his work On the Sublime, Longinus gives an extended definition of what makes sublimity.  Enumerating specific criterion, he essentially defines the sublime as that which causes amazement and wonder, contending that “emotion plays a large part in the production of the sublime” (148).  While Longinus’ definition of sublimity seems to apply only on written works, a reconsideration of his criteria makes it applicable to visual image.  Certainly, I feel that Longinus’ sublime applies to the final scene of David Fincher’s film Fight Club, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk.

This scene is the exclamation point to the movie.  Not only is it the point when the protagonist realizes and accepts what he has done and what he has become but rather, it is also the metaphoric cleansing of the protagonist’s mind and heart.  The explosive scene is the protagonist’s work of art, his great masterpiece.  As he stands with Marla (the female character) watching the explosion unfold, he too is affected by his work.  Indeed, the sublime is not only that which stimulates emotion from the audience.  Rather, in its greatness, it too affects the creator.  That is, Longinus evinces that sublimity is marked by an emotional connectivity between artist and audience; sublimity “brings in the hearts of the bystanders the actual emotion of the speaker, and always induces them to share it” (159).

Furthermore, this explosive masterpiece, as a metaphor, expresses all that the protagonist feels.  If sublime words conjure up visual images in the minds of the audience, what Longinus calls phantasia, well then this visual scene conjures up words of emotion in the minds of the audience.  Even without words to explain the moment, this scene affects both the characters in action and those who are watching the film.  It is a great and beautiful moment; a poetic moment intensified not with elevated language or extensive descriptions, lavish scenery or many actions.  Rather, the moment is amazing because of its simplicity, its sheer harmony.  And indeed, the rhythmic explosion of the buildings combined with background music seemingly illustrates what Longinus describes as “a kind of harmony of words” (159).  It is a type of harmony that not only affects a man’s hearing “but his very soul” (159).  The simple harmony of the scene with the black foreground, the shadows of the characters, the intensifying background music and the framed explosions creates for one sublime visual image.

Metaphoric, yes. Stimulating, indeed.  Sublime, it is.

Longinus. On the Sublime. Classical Literary Criticism. Trans. Penelope Murray and T.S.

            Dorsch. London: Penguin, 2000. 113-166. Print.

Introduction

“the self is like a sign in so far as it has no absolute meaning in itself: it too (or rather, it most of all), is relative, dependent for its existence on the other”  - Michael Holquist 

Looking beyond the obvious, we look for deeper meaning.  We look at things around us with dialogic impulse, believing we see beyond what it is.  This blog is a space for other voices; a space to talk out the possible meanings implicit within things.  Whatever medium it may come in, we discuss its possibilities.  Your views and opinions will find a home here. . .so come and join, welcome to our world of theory and thought.