ReExperience and ReReExperience

Audio vs Text. That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately. Specifically in conjunction with creative works. Let’s do a bit of a case study, shall we?

One of my absolute favorite poems of all time would be Richard Siken‘s “Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out”. Now, the way that I read this poem–in my head, that is–tends to ebb and flow. I speed up and slow down at various parts. The point being, that I have a specific rhythm that is innate to me and how I perceive text. This rhythm forces me to hone in on specific aspects of the poem that I, subjectively, find intriguing.

But when a poem is heard and not seen, then I’m forced to comply to the rhythm of the reader. I find it even more interesting when it is the author him/herself who reads. In this particular case, I can find two readings by Siken of this particular poem. (Apparently, I am not the only one who enjoys this one.)

Apostrophe Cast contains what we’ll call Reading #1. This particular reading is more serious and melancholy. It’s slow and simmering. Gruff. Intimate. What sticks out to me in this reading is the fairy tale motif. The princess, the dragon, flames everywhere. And even more so, the despair and desperation stick out.

But with the reading he gave at Loyola University New Orleans [correction, it’s a 1718 Reading which is brought to you by Tulane University, University of New Orleans, and Loyola, as Alex McG has informed me], which we’ll call Reading #2 (available on iTunes), is a bit more upbeat. It’s read at a faster pace. It’s frenetic and bitter sweet. Snarky and sarcastic. In fact, Siken himself calls this poem “the fun one.”

You can compare the two. For example when he comes to the lady. This passage:

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.
Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.
Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly
flames everywhere.

And listen to the way Reading #1 approaches it:
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Juxtaposed to the way it’s confronted in Reading #2:
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Reading #2 contains a vitality that isn’t there for Reading #1. It’s like a wet cloth got thrown over Reading #1. Consider the way he speaks the very fist line of this excerpt. In print, there are two sentences: a statement and a question and, to my ears, #2 conveys that, but #1 makes the statement sound like he’s half questioning you. As if he’s merely guessing that “you want a better story” rather than telling you that you do.

Consider the lady as well. Both readings do present a sarcastic kind of address to her and her function, but each feels like a different kind of sarcasm. #1 sounds like the speaker has given up. He just doesn’t care about what she has to say anymore and the consequences of her actions should’ve been foreseen–predictable. #2, on the other hand, sounds provoking and antagonizing. That lady, you know she just had to go and do that.

Now, these differences. These different experiences, I suspect they lead to different speakers and ultimately to different poems. The poem that exists in Reading #1 is one of passiveness with a speaker who’s ready to roll over in bed and ignore the whole situation. Reading #2 has a passion and fervor that makes the speaker into someone who’s going to sit across from the coffee table, stare you in the eye, and plead with you to stay.

The one in my head, though. The rhythm that I come to when I read this poem, points me in a direction of middle ground with a speaker who sometimes wants to turn away and other times wants to stare you down. A speaker that confronts you with the things he really cares about–(ie, more applesauce)–and allow you distance when he’s swimming around and trying to avoid things–(ie, saying he’s not the dragon when he is the dragon).

Can you imagine the difference this makes, though? This ability to change the speaker can change an entire poem. With each new reading, the entire poem can change, the speaker can change, and the meaning can change. It has the ability to connect with people differently each time. Someone who wouldn’t connect with, say, Reading #1 might connect with Reading #2 or vice versa or not at all, but only with text. I find that exciting and perplexing.

campaign candy

Elections are like candy stores for rhetorical critics — or anyone paying attention. From lawn signs to public endorsements, talk shows to chalk art, campaign ads to Facebook rallies… it’s all just so damn tasty.

So, as the polls close, let’s take a moment to think back on all the good times. I think I have to stick with the RNC’s Palin bio as my favorite treat. C’mon — you know the alliterative glory of “Mother, Moosehunter, Maverick” gave you chills (you may have mistaken them for a shudder).

What’s yours? To refresh your memory:

Get the latest news satire and funny videos at 236.com.

A Little Plug (‘N Play)

Gauti Sigthorsson posted his Screen Studies Conference presentation creatively titled “Home is Where My Archive Is.” It runs about 20 minutes and is most definitely worth the listen. If not for the actual complications Gauti brings up, but also for sentences like: “you’re functioning as my 3D PowerPoint presentation.”

I’ve got mail…

…from David Byrne!

Last month, I downloaded a free song from his new album with Brian Eno, and since then we’ve had some great communication. They suggest I visit their site to hear free samples, download the album, buy concert tickets, etc. And I do, of course. I wouldn’t want to let Dave down.

I’ve never understood before why people would bother to sign up for text messages from political candidates or wake-up calls from actors… I mean, it’s not real, people!

But that is a real smile that comes to my face whenever I see that name in my inbox. Now that’s a rhetorical appeal.

Who’s Whispering to Whom?

I have seen a handful of episodes from the show, The Dog Whisperer, with Cesar Millan, and I’ve always been impressed by how Millan interacts with the pet owners. He always says he’s training the humans, not the dogs.

In fact, a lot of times he doesn’t call the people owners. He calls them humans, which very interestingly divorces any statement of power in the relationship — probably because these humans are often in a submissive role.

In one particular episode, Millan visits a family of four (a heterosexual couple with a daughter and son) to help a dog behave properly and not so, um, affectionately toward her humans.

Millan discusses the dog with the family, and portions of the discussion are spliced with footage of both the dog misbehaving and of Millan speaking to the camera and explaining what he notices. What he notices is just as much about the family as about the dog herself. The mother and daughter clearly dominate the discussion, he says, while the father and son remain quiet. The dog, he argues, has identified with the females in the family, and her show of love toward them, particularly the young son, has not been one of a pack member but of a pack leader over the submissive males in the family.

Fascinating. Extreme feminism exists in the canine world too.

But since “training humans” seems to be a constant theme in Millan’s show, I wonder whether counseling offices are going to begin (or already are) including animal psychologists as an indirect way of handling human problems. Hmm. Whispering to dogs in order to whisper to humans.

Here’s a segment of the show if you’re curious:

Signage

Garr Reynolds over at Presentation Zen has a good breakdown of the visual elements of IKEA. I highly recommend that you read his post “Learning slide design from an IKEA billboard.” He provides an excellent analysis of what makes the posters persuasive and engaging. It really is a top notch post.

I, on the other hand, am totally thrilled by a person’s willingness to deconstruct a visual representation present within their own environment. I mean, once that deconstruction and analysis takes place, won’t that person be one step closer to understanding the way their particular environment manipulates them? And in understanding that manipulation, we’re a step closer in understanding the communication that is prevailing within that environment.

OBEY the Commander in Chief!

Yep.  They’re everywhere.

I can’t walk down the sidewalk in Columbus without seeing a poster or sticker with Obama’s face on it.  Do these look familiar?

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Am I a little annoyed?  Yeah.  I’m annoyed.  But not for the reason you might suspect.  My annoyance (and deep fascination) springs not from the man depicted, but the man who designed it.

Alright, you recognized these images around Columbus (and my guess is that even for our outside-of-the-heartland readers this image isn’t unfamiliar) — but do you recognize these?

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Yes?  Good.  But for any urban dwellers out there that haven’t (and I’ll try to say this without sounding condescending), it’s time to open your eyes when you’re out-n-about in the city.  Seriously.  They’re everywhere.

What is the face of Andre the Giant doing gracing cityscapes all across the globe?

The “OBEY” campaign is the brainchild of Shepherd Fairey, perhaps the second most famous street artist of all time (Banksy is hands-down the first).  In the late ’80s Fairey started posting stickers with a crude drawing of Andre on it with the saying, “Andre the Giant has a Posse.”  He plopped stickers wherever he went, eventually creating a stir of rumors and conspiracies.  In candid interviews Fairey tones down his typical pitch about how the campaign is an “experiment in phenomenology” and admits that he just thought it was funny confusing people into thinking random and fantastical thoughts about what such a sticker could possibly mean.  How deep.

Fascinated with how messages embedded in the cityscape communicated differently, Fairey expanded his reach, bombing stickers and wheatpasted images across the US.  Soon ascending the short ladder of hipness, Fairey was able to support himself financially, becoming a full time street artist.  He now operates an extremely successful brand.  OBEY now sells clothing, limited edition prints, and books.

You may have surmised by my tone that I find Fairey a less than compelling figure.  It’s true.  Without being overly bitchy about it, I think he’s a shallow hack and capitalist pig.

And this isn’t just a case of “I used to like that band before they got famous.”

Street art — stenciling, wheatpasting, and some varieties of tagging — carries with it certain philosophies (that I’ll do my best to explore in a follow-up post) that Fairey has little respect for; but more generally, Fairey has little respect for originality, a key component of street art.  He’s a flagrant, unapologetic plagiarist masquerading under a revolutionary veneer.  Gross.

Mark Vallen, an astute art critic who has done the research to expose Fairey’s careerism, puts it eloquently: “When a will to plagiarize and a love for self-promotion are the only requirements necessary for becoming an artist, then clearly the arts are in deep trouble.”

Here are just a few clipped shots from Vallen’s site, which is linked to above:obeyplag1.jpgobeyplag3.jpg

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But I want to be careful here, since the use of art in resistance is a tricky area.  Appropriation, replication without granted permission, subversion through irony, and a deep distrust of all authority are all common features in street art.  But when you make your pay by stealing other people’s aesthetics and allowing it to pass as original stuff, you’re nothing but a banal jerk.

Oh my.  Now that I’ve ranted for so long I’m out of breath to talk about the Obama image as rhetorical situation.  But a few thoughts before I go slam a cup of decaf:

* When subculture aesthetics and practices mix with political propaganda (they’re often close cousins in many regards), the results can be mixed.  I’m wondering how the practice of illegally “tagging” and “bombing” posters on walls and stickers on lampposts gives the campaign a subversive “a revolution is happening!” feel to it.  There is a pervasive irony here, right?  I mean, blatant dismissal of city law for a “higher purpose” isn’t ironic when that higher purpose is ultimately fighting the fundamental adherence to city law.  But what about when it’s for someone who’s job it is to maintain that fundamental order?  I’m polarizing camps here, making the question slightly misleading by being reductive.  Nevertheless, subversive overtones (undertones?) can really help a political campaign in building momentum.

* The image itself deserves a solid rhetorical analysis of visual composition.  It departs significantly from your standard American campaign headshot for a poster.  The simplicity of it all, combined with the steely gaze of Barack can’t help but make me think of this other leader — I think his name was Chairman Mao.  Or am I thinking of Lenny?

Seriously, doesn’t this poster have an aesthetic aura to it that gestures towards revolutionary leaders of the East?

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(thanks to garlinggauge.com for pulling these shots together)

*  Hillary caught on a little too late to the power of revolutionary propaganda, the current cultural cache of retro, and the potential of hipster politics.  Did any of you see this poster, released by the Clinton campaign near its death knell?

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HOLY COMRADE CLINTON!!!

Anyone out there up for another quick game of juxtaposition?  This hopefully will leave us on a good jumping off point for a rowdy Harlot discussion . . .

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Watching TV Makes you Smarter?

Yep.  At least that’s what Steve Johnson claims in his 2005 New York Times Magazine article with that title.  And…it’s an argument worth considering, especially given our penchant for dissing Americans in matters of intelligence. (Consider, for starters, Susan Jacoby’s recent book The Age of American Unreason, former Vice-President Al Gore’s The Assault on Reason, and Richard Shenkman’s new book Just How Stupid Are We?: Facing the Truth About the American Voter.)  H.L. Mencken wasn’t mistaken when he once said, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”

So, maybe it’s worth overestimating the intelligence of the American public, or at least reconsidering some of our criticisms.

Here’s the gist of Johnson’s argument:  a number of contemporary television shows, including The Sopranos, 24, The West Wing, and ER (keep in mind this was published in 2005) are actually demanding of some of our mental faculties.  The mental faculties he’s referring to include attention, retention, the parsing of complex narrative threads, and the deciphering of quick dialogue filled with information most viewers won’t understand.

He uses The Sopranos to illustrate his point about complex narratives.  In one episode, the viewer has to untangle at least 3 different narrative threads with layered plots in just one scene.  And, he says, the narratives build from previous episodes and continue on in future episodes.  ER is an example of a show full of quick dialogue packed with complex terms and a vocabulary unfamiliar to most that the audience must wade through to follow the story.

All of this, Johnson argues, requires the audience to focus–exercising the parts of the brain that map social networks, work to fill in missing information, and help make sense of complex narrative threads.  What Johnson’s crediting here is the structure and design of the shows…not the content.  The content, he acknowledges, is probably more immoral and sensational than ever.  But that’s not the point in this examination.

So, is this a valid point?  Do others agree?  What shows on TV right now might be comparable to the ones Johnson cites to make his argument?

Cast your vote for Harlot’s “Featured Text”

In the spirit of collaborative criticism, one of the key elements of Harlot’s pilot (see harlotofthearts.org/pilot/) is the “Featured Text”: a rhetorical artifact that begs to be analyzed, preferably by lots of smart people. For that exercise, Kay Halasek provided prompts and a launching point for discussion of Hillary Clinton’s infamous Sopranos spoof  campaign ad.

Now that we’re approaching our official launch in the fall (woo hoo!), my question is: what do we want to talk about? What would you like to analyze in Harlot? What’s going to get the conversation going? The Olympic opening ceremony?

Mudslinging campaign ads? The New Yorker cover debacle? David Byrne’s “Playing the Building” exhibit (see my post on May 18)? Those “We” global climate change commercials? Your favorite text of the moment?

Just let us know.

ABBA, McCain, and Rhetorica all walk up to a jukebox . . .

Your post on musical choice as rhetorical choice has me thinking, Kaitlin.  I’m thinking about all the times I’m sitting in a car with a varied group of friends and I go to pick from the iPod: I consider everyone’s choice, some more than others (because they might be more discerning, more difficult to please, etc.), their backgrounds, what I know they like, what I think they might like and so on.

Hmm.

Yep.  That there is a classic rhetorical situation. Conscious choice of communication based on the variables of a situation, all for a desired end.

Now mull on this: Obama and McCain were asked by Blender Magazine to pick their favorite Top Ten songs.  I can’t wait to hear people’s musings on this doozey of a list . . .

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John Mccain’s Top Ten

1. Dancing Queen ABBA
2. Blue Bayou Roy Orbison
3. Take a Chance On Me ABBA
4. If We Make It Through December Merle Haggard
5. As Time Goes By Dooley Wilson
6. Good Vibrations The Beach Boys
7. What A Wonderful World Louis Armstrong
8. I’ve Got You Under My Skin Frank Sinatra
9. Sweet Caroline Neil Diamond
10. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes The Platter

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Barack Obama’s Top Ten

1. Ready or Not Fugees
2. What’s Going On Marvin Gaye
3. I’m On Fire Bruce Spingsteen
4. Gimme Shelter Rolling Stones
5. Sinnerman Nina Simone
6. Touch the Sky Kanye West
7. You’d Be So Easy to Love Frank Sinatra
8. Think Aretha Franklin
9. City of Blinding Lights U2
10. Yes We Can will.i.am