One of the more interesting reconceptualizations I’ve come across lately is that of a “posterity engine” which is in Alastair Reynolds’ latest novel, Blue Remembered Earth. I have the Kindle edition which allows me some quick and easy textual analysis; the term appears four times thus:
1. “Across a life’s worth of captured responses, data gathered by posterity engines, there would be ample instances of conversational situations similar to this one…”
2. “…[it was out there somewhere in her] documented life – either in the public record or captured in some private recording snared by the family’s posterity engines.”
3.”It doesn’t know anything that isn’t in our archives, anything that wasn’t caught by the posterity engines…”
4. “He was old enough not to have a past fixed in place by the Mech, or posterity engines…”
The context of these sentences imply something not much more complicated than a contemporary search engine. The novel is set in 2162, that is 150 years from the present & publication date (2012).
The phrasing, “captured”, “snared”, “caught” speaks of today’s search engine crawl – crawling across a site, building up a database of links, content and keywords. At some point in our future, our terrabytes will be warehoused and crawled by personal search engines that will be indexed for our future uses – that is for posterity.
This is already happening. We just don’t label these processes with ‘posterity’. Our Apple computers are already running Spotlight crawls that index our local storage, and Time Machine is snapshotting our hardrives. Windows has an equivalent Start Menu search bar.
Imagine than the contemporary as laughably quaint, and imagine five future generations worth of personal petabytes stored somewhere (a central core server per home?) that requires contemporary Google-grade search to make useful.
I’m reminded of the fact that when Google began in 1998, its storage capacity was 350 GB. An off-the shelf MacBook Pro could have run Google in the late 1990s.
On June 8th, Ridley Scott’s Prometheus will premiere in North America before going on to exist as a download or digital file encoded on a disc. Since February there has existed an online marketing campaign consisting of videos and websites, which have prompted me to consider this daily technology as it is now, and how it could be by the time the movie is set, some eighty years from now (reportedly 2093).
By that time we will have resolved a lot of technical issues. Formats will be even more standardized, maybe resembling something like magazines and how templated they are.
Also, I imagine that some other technology will have subsumed the html/css/javascript trinity that is currently behind all sophisticated websites.
HTML is merely a collection of bracketed tags inserted into text files. Barring the development of quantum computers, or quantum/classical hybrids (which Kim Stanley Robinson calls ‘qubes’ in his latest novel, 2312), text files will remain what they are today. HTML as a collection of tags need not necessarily go away … when I began implementing my Journal as a localhost WordPress database, I did so with the understanding that my Journal as a collection of Word .docs was likely to be unreadable in 20 years, whereas HTML was probably future proof.
CSS is another form of text file, but it is already giving was to LESS/SASS as an interface to writing it.
Javascript has exploded as a programing language – I remember when people used to write “… incase people have JavaScript turned off” … and why would they have it turned off? Early on there were security issues. This all seems to be ancient history and Javascript has become a necessity, making websites seem like something belonging to a computer. (That is, an interactive publication rather than a digitized magazine). Javascript has advanced so much in the past five years that Flash is definitely on its way out as a web-interface medium.
The idea of something replacing HTML/CSS/Javascript in ten years (2022) is unrealistic. However, by 2022, we may (as we are now seeing with LESS or SASS) have the hints of something else, with working groups considering the re-invention of the technical language of the Cloud.
By 2042 then, we may have something else. Browsers will still be able to read a webpage from our era by piping the text files through a deprecated renderer, or some form of built in emulator (something like what OS X began using with the introduction of Roseta).
In the past month, I’ve dived into exploring WordPress themes and understanding the possibilities offered by WordPress as a CMS. I’ve used it as a blogging platform for five years, but only in the past six months have I begun to understand its use and potential to drive contemporary websites. The technical sophistication offered by off-the-shelf themes I found frankly stunning, and it is this model I foresee going forward. However, it is this very complicated collection (the WordPress backend remains a mess) that I imagine will be stripped down and simplified, so that by the 2080s, the database to text-file interface will be streamlined that there will be nothing complicated about it.
All of this inter-relation could be integrated into one backend coding interface, and we’ll have something like this eventually.
Lucian Freud was reported to have called Leonardo da Vinci a terrible painter, which on the face of it seems old man’s contrarian fun. But it’s not inexplicable.
In Da Vinci’s time, paintings were moving away from Mediaeval stylization toward what we’d consider ‘hand made photographs’. Artists of the time wanted to depict retinal reality, and Da Vinci was the master at this.
Vasari wrote that one could almost perceive the pulse in Mona Lisa‘s neck, an effect which really isn’t unbelievable. In the Leonardo Live broadcast I saw this past week, La Belle Ferroniere appeared to breath, which I attribute to Leonardo’s sufmato, where the softness of the edges echo the effects I once observed in a Rothko – because the edges have no definable boundary, an optical illusion of movement is created, so the Rothko seemed to pulse, and the Da Vinci portrait seems to breath.
Lucian Freud on the other hand, was a master of medium specificity, the modernist mantra promoted by Clement Greenberg in the mid 20th Century. His critique of Da Vinci was precisely from this point of view: Leonardo sucks at painting because his paintings don’t look like paintings. For Leonardo and his contemporaries, this was a success. For the standards of the late 20th Century, it is a failure.
For me, the best example of the medium specificity ethos can be found in Charles Dicken’s 1854 novel, Hard Times:
‘Would you paper a room with representations of horses?’ [asks the government bureaucrat addressing Mr Gradgrind’s school]. “I’ll explain to you why you wouldn’t paper a room with representations of horses. Do you ever see horses walking up and down the sides of rooms in reality – in fact? Of course no.
Why, then, you are not to see anywhere, what you don’t have in fact. What is called Taste, is only another name for Fact.
This is a new principle, a discovery, a great discovery.
You are to be in all things regulated and governed by fact. We hope to have, before too long, a board of fact, composed of commissioners of fact, who will force the people to be a people of Fact, and nothing but fact. You must disregard the word Fancy altogether. You have nothing to do with it. You are not to have, in any object or use of ornament, what would be a contradiction in fact. You don’t walk up flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed to wall upon flowers in carpets. You don’t find that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your crockery; you cannot be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon your crockery. You never meet with quadrupeds going up and down walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented on walls. You must use, for these purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colours) of mathematical figures which are suspceptile of proof and demonstration. This is a new discovery. This is fact. This is taste.”
This mid-19th Century anti-imagery disposition is in fact an echo of the ancient prohibition against images that is found in The Bible. That prohibition reasserted itself during the Iconoclastic years during the Catholic and Protestant split, and is also found within the tenants of Islam, from which this official’s prescription may be a parody: in banning representation, Islamic arts developed geometric pattern to a degree we find astonishing.
A century after Dickens’ words were written, it had become the dominant aesthetic ethos. Art historians tend to bring photography into the explanation, since photography was superior and easier to accomplish than a Da Vincian masterpiece. Painting was left to explore its possibilities as a coloured viscous media.
By our early 21st Century, we’ve left aside concerns that painting need to do anything except be a painting. Young people continue to take up brushes because painting is an interesting and fun thing to do, and occasionally wonderful things result.
1854
As noted, Dickens’ novel was published in the mid-1850s. This was a time when photography was just beginning, and the dominant aesthetic movements were Academic Classicism and Romanticism. The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood were active, who formed themselves around the idea that art before Raphael (aka Da Vinci) was superior to the work that came after him (the imitation of Michelangelo known as Mannerism).
Realism, as an art movement, was also happening during this time, and 1854 was the year Courbet painted his famous Bonjour Mons. Courbet. Realism, as described by Wikipedia:
attempt[ed] to depict subjects as they are considered to exist in third person objective reality, without embellishment or interpretation and “in accordance with secular, empirical rules.” As such, the approach inherently implies a belief that such reality is ontologically independent of man’s conceptual schemes, linguistic practices and beliefs, and thus can be known (or knowable) to the artist, who can in turn represent this ‘reality’ faithfully. As Ian Watt states, modern realism “begins from the position that truth can be discovered by the individual through the senses” and as such “it has its origins in Descartes and Locke, and received its first full formulation by Thomas Reid in the middle of the eighteenth century.
The Great Exhibition of 1851 had put on display a variety of consumerist products made by machines. Influenced by the Pre-Raphaelites, and the writings of Ruskin who championed them, the Arts & Crafts Movement began in the 1860s, led by William Morris. From The Arts and Crafts Wikipedia page:
The Arts and Crafts style was partly a reaction against the style of many of the items shown in the Great Exhibition of 1851, which were ornate, artificial and ignored the qualities of the materials used. The art historian Nikolaus Pevsner has said that exhibits in the Great Exhibition showed “ignorance of that basic need in creating patterns, the integrity of the surface” and “vulgarity in detail”.[25] Design reform began with the organizers of the Exhibition itself, Henry Cole (1808–1882), Owen Jones (1809–1874), Matthew Digby Wyatt (1820–1877) and Richard Redgrave (1804–1888). Jones, for example, declared that “Ornament … must be secondary to the thing decorated”, that there must be “fitness in the ornament to the thing ornamented”, and that wallpapers and carpets must not have any patterns “suggestive of anything but a level or plain”. These ideas were adopted by William Morris. Where a fabric or wallpaper in the Great Exhibition might be decorated with a natural motif made to look as real as possible, a Morris & Co. wallpaper, like the Artichoke design illustrated (right), would use a flat and simplified natural motif. In order to express the beauty of craft, some products were deliberately left slightly unfinished, resulting in a certain rustic and robust effect.
In 1908, Adolf Loos published his (in)famous essay ‘Ornament and Crime‘ (trans to Eng: 1913), which argued that ornament was a waste of energy, in addition to applying racist and moralistic interpretations (equating the tattoos of the South Pacific natives with primitive barbarism). As Wikipedia notes, this essay is an historical marker as a reaction to ornamental style of Art Nouveau:
In this essay, he explored the idea that the progress of culture is associated with the deletion of ornament from everyday objects, and that it was therefore a crime to force craftsmen or builders to waste their time on ornamentation that served to hasten the time when an object would become obsolete. Perhaps surprisingly, Loos’s own architectural work is often elaborately decorated. The visual distinction is not between complicated and simple, but between “organic” and superfluous decoration. He prefigures the Brutalist movement that spreads from the 1950s to the mid 1970s.
(Wikipedia: Adolf Loos)
The truly superior human doesn’t need to flaunt it, tell people about it, or write about it seeking validation.
That’s a line from a short story* I read a couple of years ago, and I think of it whenever I see some tat’d up hipster flaunting how “unique” and “creative” they are. Paradoxically, I find “boring” way more interesting these days.
(Joseph Wright, The Alchemist in Search of the Philosopher’s Stone (1771), depicting the discovery of phosphorus by Hennig Brand in 1669).
1. The Baroque Cycle
During the first week of the summer I discovered Neal Stephenson’s Baroque Cycle. Browsing on Amazon, going through the ‘others-who-bought-what-you-have-bought-have-also-bought’ my eye was caught by the English cover of System of the World. In reading more, I learned that it was the third novel in the trilogy, which began with Quicksilver. I downloaded the sample chapter of Quicksilver to my Kindle.
Now, I’d seen these novels in used & remaindered bookstores for years, but they had never caught my interest, especially based on the blurbed summaries printed on the back. However, you could say that I’d reached the point where my background interests had finally intersected with a series of novels set in the 17th Century (listening to the Ideas series Origins of the Modern Public almost immediately prior to discovering the Cycle probably helped) and the sample chapter intrigued me. I dived in, taking two months to read all three books (as well as the ‘sequel’ Cryptonomicon).
Quicksilver begins with an account of the alchemist Enoch Root arriving in 1713 Boston to seek out one Daniel Waterhouse. This is noteworthy as one of the underlying themes of the Cycle is how the 18th Century Enlightenment had its roots in the foundation of the English Royal Society in the 17th Century, and how its letter-based communication network spanned Europe. The immediate predecessor to this activity was the Europe-spanning Esoteric Brotherhood of Alchemy, which given a scientific overlay in the 19th Century became Chemistry.
The character Enoch is depicted as visiting the Royal Society in 1670 to demonstrate the new substance phosphorous, which can be distilled from urine. This method of creating phosphorous is used at various plot points in the novels, and the substance itself features prominently in many scenes. So I was surprised when in browsing my RSS feeds Saturday to see the following article on io9.com.
2. Alchemy & Art
The Baroque Cycles‘s alchemy sub-plot reminded me of something I’d first heard in the late 1990s. In November 1998 CBC broadcast an Ideas episode which consisted of a recorded round-table discussion on art, featuring Ideas producer Max Allen, then Globe & Mail art critic Blake Gopnik, as well as Liz Magor and Diana Nemiroff. At one point (starts at 26:27min) Allen asks if their talk on gallery-based art might sound as strange to a far future audience as we would find a conversation on alchemy. This analogy between art & alchemy struck me as particularly apt, and I remember mentioning this point to a friend. My concern was that in pursuing art I was doing something wasteful, whereas his response was, “I wouldn’t mind doing ‘alchemy'”. His answer essentially recognized the aesthetic of doing something perhaps useless but also intriguing and fun in and of itself. This ‘use-based’ critique of arts is one happens all the time and it incredibly hard to avoid. My friend’s answer in turn, is also hard to avoid – that there are some things in life that are worth doing simply because it’s fun to do them (aka “the journey is the destination”).
[audio:http://timothycomeau.com.s3.amazonaws.com/blog/wp-content/audio/1998-11_CBC_IDEAS_youcallthatart.mp3 ] (Ideas from November 1998 • Lister Sinclair! • Download Mp3)
So, in reading The Cycle, and with this memory, I found it surprising when I read the following tweet:
This immediate association between art & alchemy in light of my reading and memories rose my eyebrows. Then, more recently, the following line occurred in another article about art:
“Through the alchemy of the Internet, the performance loses some of its luster.”
My suspicion is that this relationship between alchemy & the arts will become more and more prominent over the next few months (years?) and that maybe it’s because art & alchemy are similar to each other, as both being traditions with long histories that disappeared. Art, as it has been structured and known, is changing into something else, primarily through ‘the alchemy of the internet’. Given that we are so immersed in mediated images, it seems more and more impossible for a static artistic image or a mise en scene (‘installation’) to have much resonance, where resonance is proportional to its level of reproduction on the net (ie, today a famous image is blogged).
Under today’s conditions, a cultural product seems relevant if it goes viral. For the record, Liz Magor answered Max Allen’s question in 1998 (which presumed the future would consider 20th Century art & culture to be mass products like movies and television) by stating that assumes things have value simply because they are popular.
Of course, those who have known me for a long time will point out that I was once a part of the Instant Coffee collective, and that in August 2003 we put on a show called Alchemy & Mysticism. This was ‘Alchemy & Mysticism #2″ as #1 was the title of a collection of art videos shown in the Urban Disco Trailer earlier in June. The title was taken from the Taschen book, and chosen mostly for humour, as it had nothing to do with the content of either collection.
Alex Livingston, Untitled Chromira Print on Dibond 2010 48in x 68in from the Leo Kaman website
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“The sketchbook tradition has pretty much died out,” he says. “The sketchbook offered a lot of portability, as you generated ideas on the go. I now travel with my drawing tablet and my laptop.”
Goddard in speaking with Livingston for his show (currently on at Leo Kamen Gallery in Toronto) explains that he’s currently using a Wacom tablet with his laptop, as opposed to paints and paper. I know myself, I looked into getting a Wacom tablet in 2009, but decided against it for the time being, as I still like using inks and brushes, and would prefer that tactility while image-making, as it’s just as easy to scan afterward as it is to create it directly through the computer.
What I wonder about though, is the measure of this shift. I came of age, and was inspired to be an artist, through the experience of 500 year old materials. Notebooks, manuscripts, paintings, and the older the better. I saw myself was working within that tradition, in effect creating things that would themselves be 500 years old one day. What then, is truly going on (what is the measure of this shift) when a professor at a prestigious art school says “the sketchbook tradition has pretty much died out”? If I were to ask, “will people in a century even understand paper?” is there an analogy which will help me understand what that experience will be like?
Since I was a child I’ve been fond of Jesus’ parable of feeding the spirit: that man cannot live by bread alone, but also requires the word of God. I think the reasons I’ve always appreciated this were because it was well explained to me by a teacher who had formerly been a priest, and it made sense to me in a manner that has remained true to my life as I’ve lived subsequently. That the spirit, or mind requires feeding seems self-evident.
This idea has been relevant to my interest in the arts, and I’ve also noticed over the years a personal preference for food metaphors. Food, after all, is a substance we ingest, we bring into ourselves, where it is transformed into something disgusting that comes out the other end of our bodies. This transformation is called digestion, and we understand through this process we remain alive through the derivation of nutrients, in effect becoming “what we eat”.
This physical digestion can mirror of that of the mind – we continually ingest, take into ourselves, ideas that enter our mind through conversation, reading, and general interaction. Our minds continually process the languages of our environment, be they symbolic, gestural, or spoken, and ‘digest’ them into some part of our worldview and subsequently some part of our sense of self.
Almost everyone alive is capable of feeding themselves in some way, even if they are not actually able to cook a meal. In that sense, we are all literate to the symbology of the gastronomic spectrum, all the way from food freshly killed in a hunt to the four-course meal of a fine restaurant. Along the spectrum are canned food we merely reheat, sandwiches, and fast food burgers. So-called special occasions require meals at the higher end of the spectrum, whereas quotidian meals after a long day can occur on the lower end.
Carr: Art is absurdly overrated by artists, which is understandable, but what is strange is that is absurdly overrated by everyone else.
Tzara: Because man cannot live by bread alone.
Carr: Yes, he can. It’s art he can’t live on.
-Tom Stoppard, Travesties (1975)
If the spectrum of food goes from the self-acquired meal to restaurants, on what spectrum does art lie? Why in effect, is my question being asked? Because Art is a strange and forever undefinable thing, precisely because it is a food of the mind, an intangible and a philosophically confused concept. As Wittgenstein sought to make clear a hundred years ago, some philosophical problems are merely problems of semantics, entanglements of concepts without a clear language. Art is such a thing: forever subject to pithy definitions which merely become mottoes for one of its clique camps. For the conceptualists art is something different than for the painters, and thus like God it is subject to much under its name, in a variety of churches under many flags.
Why is it we consider it normal for children to draw? And why do we find it usual that adults mostly do not draw? For that matter, why do we find it normal for children to play, and find it usual that most adults do not play, but those who do are honoured as actors? In keeping with my food theme, children do not eventually grow out of making food for themselves. Sure, there are people who ‘can’t cook’ but presumably this means they are reliant on heating up frozen dinners. Food making remains a part of our lives throughout, while art making is allowed to disappear.
But does it? If you can’t cook, that can be done for you – simply go to a restaurant or a soup kitchen. But art? One goes to a gallery, and hence a gallery is analogous to a restaurant. Or, like the ever-present unquestioned nature of food culture, we could say the dominance of created visual products we call tv shows and/or movies (even video games) are somehow reflective for our appetite for imagined products.
Galleries do not seem to think of themselves as restaurants for the spirit, offering menus of imagined products. However, if pressed, I think they would see the similarity between the haute cuisine chef and the international exhibiting artist.
Human beings took our animal need for palatable food … and turned it into chocolate souffles with salted caramel cream. We took our ability to co-operate as a social species … and turned it into craft circles and bowling leagues and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We took our capacity to make and use tools … and turned it into the Apollo moon landing. We took our uniquely precise ability to communicate through language … and turned it into King Lear.
None of these things are necessary for survival and reproduction. That is exactly what makes them so splendid. When we take our basic evolutionary wiring and transform it into something far beyond any prosaic matters of survival and reproduction … that’s when humanity is at its best. That’s when we show ourselves to be capable of creating meaning and joy, for ourselves and for one another. That’s when we’re most uniquely human.” – Greta Christina, Sex and the Off-Label Use of Our Bodies| (My source)
Creating anything is a human thing to do: we take basic foods and we make meals, and we take sticks and make symbols. Everyday we manipulate a set number of symbols in composing text messages and emails, and to do so is to be part of our human community. A teenager unable to text (i.e. write) in today’s world would be one who is cut off from their community, and thus damaged. Being human is to be both a meal maker and an art maker, but importantly, I am using the word “art” in a generic creative sense of the word to encompass everything learned and extensive of the imagination, such as writing quotidian messages, or the dominating created world of pop culture.
Along the food-spectrum analogy, most everyone is capable of making a sandwich. Culturally, the creativity of everyday is not very advanced. Once we get beyond sandwich making, the understanding of these cultural worlds diverges: the fine restaurant has a place in our lives that a fine gallery doesn’t.
“Food” as a word is easily understood as something encompassing a long spectrum of things that are ultimately put in the mouth. But Art, through its semantic confusion, is not easily reduced as something “put somewhere”. It does not have an obvious end point, but is to be described as “experienced” or “felt” or “seen”.
What interests me is why the analogy of restaurants so easily breaks down, and why Art remains perceived as something privileged and removed, whereas restaurants and food culture are so thoroughly embedded. Why do galleries exist dependent on grants, whereas the idea of supporting a restaurant by grants is absurd? The easy answer is the physical need for food makes food culture obvious, but we do not speak of art as psychological need which would make its cultural contribution obvious as well. Also, the another obvious answer is that pop culture provides the feeding of the psychological/imaginative appetite so thoroughly that only those with “finer palates” seek out the higher forms in prestigious galleries. This is analogous to the “culture war” within Food: buying organic and local vs. fast & processed.
In the Art culture, we have fast and highly processed food as well. And just as a diet consisting entirely of highly processed food is extremely unhealthy, it is probably equally mentally unhealthy to be a digester of corporatized pop culture exclusively. Unfortunately, like a Big Mac filming a Whopper, reality television has begun to exploit the end products of generations of television: these terrible, stupid people who are not (in the old sense of the term) “cultured” precisely because they are instead “pop cultured” and thus comfortable with confessing to video diaries and being idiots on camera.
“I guess I used to think of myself as a lone agent, who made certain choices and established certain alliances with colleagues and friends,” he said. “Now, though, I see things differently. I believe we inherit a great river of knowledge, a flow of patterns coming from many sources. The information that comes from deep in the evolutionary past we call genetics. The information passed along from hundreds of years ago we call culture. The information passed along from decades ago we call family, and the information offered months ago we call education. But it is all information that flows through us. The brain is adapted to the river of knowledge and exists only as a creature in that river. Our thoughts are profoundly molded by this long historic flow, and none of us exists, self-made, in isolation from it. – David Brooks, Social Animal
To be alive is to participate in a food stream, and to be human is to participate in a knowledge stream. A human beings, we participate in a collectively created culture which subdivides into subcultures, two of which are food-related and art-related. Food culture is so healthy in its level of participation that people need to be careful around it, lest they become obese, while art culture is a muddied, confused and sclerotic thing, always being defended and dependent on social largess.
Clearly, the place of Art in our lives requires a rehabilitation—one which recognizes its place in a healthy and full life. Just as a diet consisting entirely of fast food is dangerous, so too is a mental life informed solely by corporatized products. However, this is not to be read as a defence of government grants, but simply to remind you that restaurants do not require support. If we include film, we may already have a healthy art-culture. If we consider art to be something solely related to galleries, we may ask why haute cuisine is not dependent on grants, or why the art experience away from commercialization insists on being free, when it is free food that one really requires.
My questions:
1. Wasn't the G8 made somewhat irrelevant last autumn when it was decided that the G20 would be more important?
2. Why is this our business? Like, a bunch of women in poor countries are going to care about what Canadians say and do. WTF. You'd think paternalistic programs would be something Conservatives avoid. And perhaps this is where they are coming from? I don't know. I do know that getting all upset at their ideology is a predictable distraction to the fact that this story has no substance. Why can't we have a discussion around the thesis: "Poor women are capable of taking care of themselves". If that statement is false, why? And why is it our (G8) problem as opposed to the governments of the countries where these people live?
Birth control won't be in G8 plan to protect mothers, Tories say
I just did this diagram in less than 5 minutes using Google Docs. Had I done this in Illustrator, I would have taken a half-hour. I don’t know if that means I suck at Illustrator, or if Google Docs is AMAZING.
Pressed to answer, I would say, no, I’m not that bad at Illustrator – it’s only I would have to create every element in the diagram from scratch.
Google Docs provides a library of readymade elements, which cuts down on the time. Also, the library suggests they anticipate their app to be used to create flow charts such as this one, meaning everything I would need to make such an image was there, increasing efficiency. Props to Google for so thoroughly anticipating user needs.
Secondly, Google’s experience with user interfaces (like SketchUp) meant that intuitive actions like grouping meant that I could put together shapes and move them around without having to explicitly group them, which was a bonus.
So yes, Google Docs is AMAZING, but it helps if one knows what one’s doing to begin with.
(BTW, this diagram illustrates the syncing relationship between Google’s cloud services and an iPhone and MacBook).
1903 – The Wright Brothers finally solve the mystery of flight for human beings
Then we learned to fly in formation.
2006 – Twitter is founded.
Between 1903 and 2006 is a century during which apes aspired to become birds, a hybridization that goes back to our mythology.
If we take the name of Twitter literally, we see it has the communication of a flock, announcing their location, status, territory, thoughts, somewhat arbitrarily. Like sparrows in a tree, communicating to the networked host.
In other words, one of the great projects of Western humanity over the past one hundred years was to become birdlike, rather than apelike. For whatever reason.
Today’s Huffington Post links to a Nypost article on “the creepy painting” of Michael Jackson in Michelangelo’s David pose, surrounded by cherubs. We are told that it was commissioned in 1999 from the artist David Nordahl.
This painting was glimpsed in the 2003 documentary by Martin Bashir, and from which I took the screencaps to compose the piece (below) I had in Zsa Zsa Gallery’sThe Michael Jackson Show show in Toronto, and which closed on Michael Jackson’s 45th birthday.
As I stated in that peice, he had delusions of godlihood. I do not know if the Nordahl work has a title, but I’d imagine it acquiring the name ‘The Apotheosis of Michael Jackson’, and considering the default longevity of oil and canvas, it may become a type of Mona Lisa image of the 26th Century – something most people are familar with, but it will be few who will have actually looked up the surviving electronic documents to see the videos.
CNBC has a slide show of work from his collection. This dates from last March, when Jackson was planning an auction to gain some cash for his troubled finances. As I’ve known about the apotheosis painting for almost seven years (Bashir’s documentary aired in January of that year) it doesn’t surprise me that Jackson’s taste was so bad. What I was surprised by were the other paintings wherein he’s a king, or a knight. I find this one (also by David Nordahl) most alarming:
And this robotic head reminds me of the end of William Gibson’s Neuromancer.
I found the slide show through a search for “David Nordahl”. The thumbnail for the following made me think he was a Mormon artist responsible for the type of images of white-Jesus amidst tanned-white-people Indians as seen in their texts. On clicking I see that instead it’s a very Socialist Realism depiction of Jackson that wouldn’t stand out from a collection of Maoist images from the Cultural Revolution. I would like to think that Nordahl is savy enough to have put Jackson in a red shirt for this reason – consider this painting “The Nordahl Code”. Herein lies coded images depicting truths about his interaction with this disturbed man, but I’ll leave that to the thriller novelists of the future.
Frank Herbert, in his last novel Chapterhouse Dune, wrote of a Van Gogh painting which had survived the millenia and was a reminder to that cohort of humanity of an element of wildness in the human imagination. It is an eloquent passage about the importance and lasting effects of artwork. Jackson in turn stands as a testament to the WTF? element in the human, but this message speaks most clearly to us, the present living who shared the world with the living figure, but a century from now, these paintings, stripped of the context that we take for granted, will be a mess of mixed messages. By this I mean that we know that Jackson’s thing for being depicted as a king comes from his marketing as ‘the king of pop’. And that the associated art is tasteless and ignorant.
Jackson as a knight, or as a king … a schoolgirl of 2110 will have no reason to think that the man depicted there was not those things. Also, these works are a reminder that while painting we call ‘contemporary’ has become a blotchy mess of shapes, colour and tube turds, there remains this underground of figurative realism that ‘tasteless’ celebrities hire for their own personal propaganda. The tradition of Queen Elizabeth I, Louis XIV, Napoleon (ancient figures from a pre-photographic world shaping their image for the present and future generations) continues for the celebrity-royalty of today. The truly wealthy and powerful (billionaires) just support the museums and keep the industrial scale works they purchase in secret storage somewhere.
What is fortunate is that Jackson’s megalomania was somewhat harmlessly channeled into a career as a song & dance man. In the history of celebrity, Jackson is perhaps unique in the use of the cult of personality, and someone attached to his organization must have studied its long history, from Rome through to Stalinist Russia. Had he been a political figure, it seems certain he would have been the worst kind of monster, a Caligula with a harem of boys. Consider how this video depicts (part of the 1997 History campaign) some kind of Roman Emperor Soviet Russia fantasy:
Michael Jackson was not a healthy man in any sense of the word. Those of us who take art seriously can see in it just how ill he was, and we can also recognize the depth of ignorance amidst his fans. That people have gotten tatoos ‘in memoriam’, that people leave glowing comments on his YouTube archive, is just another example and evidence of a failed education system. The art will echo down the centuries as a reminder that in the late 20th Century, Western soceity was totally fucked up.
Looking at the Andy Warhol ‘Giant’ book last night at Dan’s (Phaidon press, Dan’s friend’s book) impressed by the layout, comprehensiveness. The images, ticket stubs, newspapers, and really great photographs. Especially liked the picture of Warhol shopping (buying Campbell’s soup etc). I’ve never bought into the hype of Warhol, but I don’t doubt his relevance. Part of the problem of his legacy is how much popular culture adopted the forms he made permissible. It’s hard to look at the 1980s portraits made from Polaroids and rendered as silkscreens and not think of a cheap Photoshop filter. There are some who judge the quality of an artist by the level of subsequent adoption – Jackson Pollock, for example, made a drip-painted look for a table top something decorators could take seriously. Similarly, Apple encodes the ‘Ken Burns’ effect into it’s image software.
What was also apparent in the Warhol books is how much it was a documented party-scene. New York’s hipsters, looking like the hipsters of today (who are emulating their model) are preserved in their beautiful baby-fat youth for the rest of time. Thirty years later now their hair is grey, their bodies thick, their stamina not what it was then, and such is the way of things. But in New York moment in historical time, they were partying under the paternal patronage of Uncle Andy who took their photos and made pictures of them.
I was also struck by the absence of politics. There was the Warhol silkscreen of Nixon, ‘vote McGovern’ and it’s comprehensible if you know something of American politics of the early 1970s. But we are now living in the 21st Century, and it is a cultural artefact – highlighting the transience of American Presidencies. Nixon from here on and for the rest of time will merely be a collection of images (videos & photos) recorded audio tracks (the Tapes) and documents. In a hundred years, internet-conspiracy theorists will probably claim that he was a fictional character developed in 2002, just as they claim that 9/11 was an inside job and that the Moon landings never happened.
Of history, we should always remember the thousand years of memory outweighs the minutes of its creation; that is to say, murdering Julius Caesar probably took all of five minutes, but it has been remembered for over two thousand years. Such things exist in a much grander context than their initial inception. And they become the possession of a greater population of people than those who lived through them. (A greater number of people have been alive in the past two thousand years than the population of Rome in 44BC who lived through the actual event).
How we access and understand the context comes through the artefacts. Shakespeare’s imagining of Caesar’s death is renewed it’s memory in our civilization. The Frost/Nixon film last year renewed the memory of Nixon’s presidency. And today of course is a day of the renewal of memories of the terrorist attacks of eight years ago.
We may understand the history of Nixon, and of supermarkets, and of canned food. But how a particular human being reacted to them is what is documented in the art: Warhol got his peers to ask questions about and consider the packaging of popular culture. His works was also there as a reference during the development of machines that could render an image in millions of pixels and have each and every pixel subject to manipulation.
I was also looking at the book a day after Obama’s presentation to Congress on the importance of American Health Care Reform. Undoubtedly, Americans will eventually correct the imbalances of their health care system. Twenty years from now, no one will care. But on the coffee table of somebody’s home will be a book of some artist’s work that we presently have either never heard of, or just had a beer with at an opening. It is culture than always transcends the pettiness of politics. Politicians like to think their laws and policies are contracts and set in stone, and are some form of realized Platonic entity. They’re nothing of the sort. They can be repealed and amended. Politics is a game of making our lives easier to live. But once we have an easy life, the needs of our imagination become paramount, which is why cultural history wins.
Of the book, this seems the ultimate legacy. We may see Warhol paintings in any museum in any city on Earth. But very few of us will actually be able to go through the Warhol archives and see the collection of stuff accumulated in his lifetime. The book then functions as a curated display of celebrity relics, and allows us to conceptualize the totality of the oeuvre. The message, “This is the accomplishment of one man’s life in historical time”.
That Warhol and the New York rockstars photographed by him led cultural lives is a given. And it created a model for a society which would put a phone in everybody’s pocket, and a camera in each phone. Party blogs are responding to the idea that documentation is what one does, incase anyone becomes famous later. But not only do you trap someone’s pre-fame, you also believe that this is how one lives a cultural life – by dressing like they did thirty years ago, photographing everything, and ultimately perhaps publishing your youth in a book when your body is thick and your hair is gray. Good times, good times.
I read this, which reminds me of this, so I post this, and I get this comment, which makes me think this: “Every time I think I’ve had some brilliant insight and I try to share it, I run into the brick walls of compartmentalized, literal thinking.” And then I get this other comment which makes me write this.
On the weekend I downloaded the results available at Elections Canada and did some number crunching. Thanks to the miracle of the spreadsheet, this was something that only took about a half-hour to do. The numbers remind us that the Conservatives only got 10.4 million votes, while the Liberals, NDP and the Bloc combined got 15 million. Thus Stephen Harper is full of shit, which is pretty much nothing new, as far as many are concerned.
As for talk of an alliance with Separatists, I too think this is bullshit. Since when as the Bloc been a threat? Since 1995, thirteen years ago. Now they are a Quebec chauvinist party who represent Quebec self-interest in the federal government. Given that a lack of representation and fair dealing throughout the 20th Century is what led Quebec to believe they needed to separate, perhaps the Bloc’s place in the House over the past fifteen years has been sufficient to defuse that threat. Yes, on paper, they’re Separatists. Also, on paper, the Pope believes in Jesus. But the Bloc is not a threat, and like the Pope, probably enjoy their political power and influence more than they do their ideology.
Which is exactly where Harper as gone so wrong – trying to mix his power with his noxious ideology. Seventeen million people did not vote for the Conservatives. Seventeen million Canadians rejected their ideals. Yet, with ten million votes, we found them in power. And what a Chomskyian fall – by that meaning their undoing followed Chomsky’s usual analysis that governments get into trouble when they fuck with powerful interests. All through the pre-election Parliament, the Liberals refused to challenge Harper’s regime. This is what earned my disgust with Stephen Dion, not the Carbon Tax. Now that they’ve finally stood up for themselves and for their representatives, I look forward to Dion as a Prime Minister. And yet, it was the threat to remove their public funding which became the straw that broke this camel’s back. Well, whatever. Lets bygones be bygones – the Separatists are not a threat, nor are they treasonous etc. Dion is no longer being pusillanimous. Harper is no longer appearing reasonable and respectable. Bring on the future.
One constitutional lawyer (also a University of Toronto professor), was on Don Newman’s Politics last evening (Mon Dec 1; begins at 11:19). The talk was a lack of historical precedence, in terms of giving this legitimacy. So what? Why does that even need to be a concern? Can’t this Parliament set a precedent? Indeed, this whole scenario is a heartwarming reminder that there are stop-gaps in place to prevent dictatorships and tyrannies. Mind you, that take on it might not be valid if the governing party was in the Majority. Nevertheless, what I saw when watching Layton, Dion and Duceppe’s news conference last evening was history, an historic handshake like similar foundational handshakes in national histories. John Ralston Saul likes to talk about the agreement between Robert Baldwin and Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine, and how this arrangement laid the foundations for Confederation. A coalition government at this time could be the foundation of collaborative government which would be appropriate to the networked 21st Century. For all we know, this type of thing could lead to a revised Constitution in fifty years.
Repeated accusations of the parties playing partisan politics, and using the Bloc as a denigration, is entirely missing this point. Big picture, long term, we should have a government where the parties work together, where they represent a multitude of voices and different ideas, and this could free us from rule by one-party ideologues the likes of Harper, or for that matter, the likes of Chretien. Further, the Reform party (from which Harper sprang) found its first members among those who were angry with the Trudeau-era Liberals (who, granted, worked with the NDP during one of their terms). The point here being that breaking one-party majority rules who just piss off a lot of people off is probably a good thing for all. Historians may look at this as an evolution of politics which began with the return to Minority Parliaments after the Chretien years. Minorities which lead to Coalitions which lead to fairer representation at the Federal level. If anything, (and if they can get this right), this may enable future under-represented voices to be heard. And one can hope that amidst the economic stimuli, they find the time to bring in Proportional Representation, since it’s now to their mutual advantage.
In my excitement last night, I posted on as my Facebook status: ‘I am so proud of my parliament right now. This is Canada’s Obama moment. Wow.’ What I meant was that a bold, change-oriented, imaginative thing was underway, which put into contrast the status-quo we are used to. The election of Barack Obama was a result of a majority of Americans consciously choosing a different path, one that lead them into the 21st Century. Obama promises a government of transparency and of networked sophistication.
As Canadians, we aren’t there yet. But a majority of Canadians consciously chose to vote for parties other than the Conservatives, who would never lead us there to begin with. The five million more who voted past the Conservatives ten million will now feel like they’ve gotten the government they were asking for. They (and we, as I was one of them) deserve to be represented, and for our common desire to see a better country given a chance to be implemented.
Harper C Party: I’m not ideological enough to be scared by Harper. More or less I find him uninspiring and disappointing. I think the Conservative strength is in their fiscal policy: I for one am looking forward to opening one of their registered savings accounts in January. But money matters are not inspiring matters, and when their cuts about arts created an uproar, the question shifted to not whether they were justified or not, but to the perception that the Conservatives don’t care about culture. Mr. Harper positively beamed when talking about the talents of his kids. He’s a proud father. It is striking that the question was even asked – when was the last time arts-n-culture were part of an electoral campaign?
I’ve admitted in the past that I respect Mr. Harper. I like the no-nonsense attitude, yes. But I’ll never vote conservative for as long as I live, and that has everything to do with their hard-hardheartedness. Maybe I respect Harper because he comes across as the only intelligent one of the bunch. He’s not a windbag like Jason Kenney, nor as much of an unprofessional jerk like Jim ‘don’t invest in Ontario’ Flaherty – a stinky old fish from the Harris regime (which John Ralston Saul described as ‘intentionally evil’ in his new book, writing about their attacks on the school system). At my riding’s All Candidates Meeting, Gerrard Kennedy tried to scare-monger by describing Harper as Harris. Puhlease. Harris was a typical stupid bully, whereas Harper is just the self-righteous smart kid who gets great grades and makes everyone feel bad. There’s a big difference. It is notable that they gravitated to the same political spectrum however.
Underlying conservative arguments is a not only past-oriented romanticism, but also an ignorance which feeds bigotry. They are ultimately the party of stupid patriarchs, and we’ve had quite enough of that.
The Conservatives display financial expertise. But it seems to be the only thing they can speak about with authority. Since life is about more than money, I’d appreciate more well-rounded fuck-saying people in my government.
Day – G-Party: Ms. Day was fantastic, bringing up obscure facts to educate the public on. I’m increasingly thinking I may vote Green. That’s all I need to say I think. I hope she impressed many people to do the same.
Dion L-Party: Mr. Dion spoke with authority, but what an uphill battle. He cowered for the past 18 months since becoming leader, and when the election was called brought up the fact that Harper was violating his own fixed-election date law. WTF? I mean seriously, what … the … fuck !??? You mean to tell me the reason we haven’t had his election sooner was because Dion seriously respected that silly law, which is obviously of no consequence? Does he really want to be PM? You mean, he would have contently waited out his role as leader of the Opp with the calendar marked with Harper’s fixed-election date? God I wish they’d made Ignatieff leader when they had the chance.
Besides that, Green Shift … whatever. I don’t care what it’s called or what it costs, I want to be able to breath outside when I’m 90. All parties seem to agree on this except for the stupid Conservatives.
Layton – N Party: Layton did a good job of agreeing with Day. That wasn’t a bad thing, since it reflected sensibility. Jack Layton isn’t someone I have any big problems with, and he’d make an excellent Prime Minister. The NDP tend to seem shifty because they come across as impractical (vs. the Conservative practicality). He made a good point in suggesting that if citizens want a better government, they should try electing one which doesn’t start with an L or a C (not his words, my interpretation). I would like to see the NDP appear more well-rounded and stop catering to relatively minor issues like fucking bank fees. I mean, banks suck of course, but I don’t need the leader of the minority opposition treating it like a mission more important than child care and health care and all the rest. The NDP have done a great job in keeping the Conservative budgets from being overly-crazy, and I commend them on that.
Duceppe – Q Party: Duceppe was irrelevant to English Canada.
I saw the image in the blog posting, positing the fate of one of the characters. Because we know that the story takes place at a post-apocalyptic time, and thinking this was a leaked shot from an upcoming episode, I imagined the wildflowers were those of British Columbia spring, depicting some time in the far-off post-catastrophe future. The camera would rotate about it, there’d be some slow motion fluttering of cloth, angelics and whatever.
Then I Google the file name and find this. Still, on yesterday’s walk, I thought about the wild flowers, the future, and the simplicity of the character’s supposed fate. And made the image my Desktop wallpaper.
Because of the context in which I first encountered it, the image has poetic resonance. But had I found it’s Photoshoped goodness in its original context, I wouldn’t have reason to think differently of wildflowers.
I recently decided that my current website is actually version 5.2, not 4.4. This needs some explaining.
I learned web design through books on the advice of a friend. My first book (Elizabeth Castro’s HTML 4) along with View Source cut-n-paste got me writing my first rudimentary website in 2000. It wasn’t until early 2002 (through Geocities) that I learned how to FTP. It was a proud moment when I was able for the first time to see one of my jpegs on someone else’s computer via the net.
During the summer of 2002, I built my first website. It was hosted on Geocities and later moved to Instant Coffee‘s server.
This went through a number of body-colour variations (and upper-right hand graphics) before it ended up as it remains today.
The Way-Back Machine shows me a site on the Instant Coffee server from February 2003 which I called then Version 4, meaning it was the 4th design revision I’d gone through since the above # 1, before I scrapped all this alpha-draft code later that summer.
My site, Feb 2003
When, in August 2003, I tried to apply what I’d learned in the previous year by building my first complicated site, using Youngpup.net‘s ypSlideOutMenus code. This page (as was proper for the time) even had a splash page.
In August 2004, I again worked on redesigning my site, to incorporate what I’d learned in the previous year. This site used CSS and my then basic understanding of PHP Switches and MySql.
I left this site for two years, until August 2006, when I began working on another redesign. However, while I began the basic layout during August, I backburnered it until December, and made it public in January 2007, when I acquired my timothycomeau.com domain name and new server space (until this time, the previous websites had been sub-directories of my host. The 2002-2003 sites had been found at tim.instantcoffee.org or instantcoffee.org/timothy and then the 2004-2006 site had been at goodreads.ca/timothy). For this reason, I sometimes refer to this design as ‘the 2006 one’ or ‘the 2007 one’. I’ve pretty much decided from here on to think of it as ‘the 2006 one’ since that’s how I’ve come to consistently remember it.
Last December I began to redesign the site, to once again update it according to my expanded know-how. Because I felt I’d simply redesigned the menu and updated the logo, I felt that it was a version of #4 (most recently 4.4) and hence, until recently, I’d considered it such. But, I’ve come to think of the present site as a different ‘2008 version’ and figured I should just consider it a #5. Since the .dot numbers come somewhat arbitrarily via whatever small improvements I make here in there, I figured it’s present state is about two modifications away from where it was at in January (when I considered 4.2) hence, version 5.2.
Sometime within the next thirty years, the area of Yonge St incorporating Sam the Record Man, Dundas Square, up to Bloor, will be preserved in all its classless glory as a heritage district of late 20th Century.
I just found this laying around the hard-drive. It’s something I wrote at the beginning of February, meant as a reply posting on a web-forum before I abandoned it as too long and potentially off-topic. I also read it now and think it dates me as a 30-something pre-Millennial with 20th Century memories. I’m not so sure the sentiments herein expressed would resonate with early 20-somethings who hate old art as being too much Church-stuff. I’m also not sure how many 20-something artists are dealing with legacy-Marxists on a regular basis, as I have over the past decade.
***
One of the lessons of the 20th Century was that the world changes every ten years. Each decade compressed the changes of a mediaeval century, and yet the arts don’t seem to have clued into this. My reason for pursuing the arts came from it’s humanism, as expressed especially in the 1960s, which I now recognize as being part of the Western World’s healing process following World War II. As a teenager, the Time-Life series on artists produced at that time were an introduction to a cultural world that I was not being taught in my rural Nova Scotia school.
The humanistic aspect of the arts is still what politicians and journalists are likely to throw at us – the arts encourage ‘life’ with mystical overtones. I now understand why that was propagated in the years following the Second World War, but by the time I went to art-school (following the idea that a cultured life was the one the most worth living) I ran into bitter and disagreeable adults who hated the word `beauty`, hated the word `humanism`, and instead taught me to be angry with capitalism, patriarchy, corporations and the other suspects. Thus enraged, I was then encouraged to express my thoughts on the matter through obfuscation, conceptual trickery, (and those other usual techniques) not in writing – since I was expected to be only barely literate – but my making something to be exhibited in a plain white room.
Once out of art school, I thought of myself as a young professional trained in my field and yet found that income-via-arts-employment was rare, the already-expensive credentialing inadequate, and the grant system to be more of a nepotistic lottery, and no one was as smart as they thought they were; more or less they were merely quoters, not thinkers. Old ideas, not new. As long as they could throw a quote at you from one of those bitter French men (they who hated capitalism, humanism and the usual) then they considered themselves not only smart, but superior, and it didn’t matter if their day jobs did not coincide with their training. We were all channeled into a bohemian life of obscurity and intellectual self-deception.
My sense then is that the arts professionals of Canada have totally lost track of the game. They are very quick to adopt the thinking of foreigners while denigrating their home culture. Their greatest ambition is to leave the country. Trained to be hateful of contemporary society, they are too disagreeable to be employable by the corporations who could use them. And here it comes back to the humanistic heritage – your average person who respects the arts does so because of that humanistic heritage, and yet the too-cool-for-school artist today will quickly mock this superficial understanding.
Why then, is there little art is schools? Perhaps because ’sensible’ adults don’t want their kids around the bad influence of either hippy-dippy mystics or disgruntled communists. Those of us who understand why that is an oversimplification and an unfair stereotype are the ones who probably already have their kids involved in the arts. They’re not as rare as we may think, and highlights the political thinking against universalizing art education – politicians think parents-who-want-it find a way outside of the public system. It’s a lifestyle option, and an ethnically specific one at that.
My own, disillusioned sense, is that the arts do not have the value invested into them by 19th Century European snobs. I never use the word `disinterested` for example, except when talking Kantian aesthetics. The writings of John Ruskin I find to be mostly unreadable due to being obsolete. Clement Greenberg, nor Andy Warhol, ever heard the word ‘email’ in their lifetime, let alone ‘world-wide-web’. For that matter, Warhol never got the chance to use Photoshop.
Industrial manufacturing has given us a world of aesthetically pleasing products, and talent for image making is now found in the worlds of design and illustration. (Jutxapoz magazine). Installation art tends to amount to bad set design, and performance art to bad acting. I see better art videos on YouTube than I do in galleries, and on YouTube they don’t try to be art. If you consider the Mona Lisa to be the first viral image, it’s easy to extend the consideration to how much a viral video has passed the test of the audience, making it legitimate art.
These are examples of how our world has changed, and I feel like ‘the visual arts’ are a fossilized cultural product from at most, the 1980s. Future historians will look to illustration, design, and films to gauge our culture, and especially the YouTube archives. Like the photography of a century ago, it’s the stuff taken with Kodaks that are of interest, not the stuff trying to imitate romantic paintings.
If we want to have galleries in our towns and cities, it is important that we all understand why they are important. I still value art for it’s humanism. But our culture is so creative outside of galleries, and it is this creativity that is accessible to people who haven’t studied art. The argument shouldn’t then be to have an art for those professionals – it should be accessible to all. A life in the arts should broaden one’s possibilities, not narrow them to the life of a clique.
When people talk about `art` these days, I no longer know what they’re talking about. I suspect they are talking about some hipster club they don’t want a corporate dork to join. But that exclusion denies someone who needs art is their life from having it – and the result is Canadian culture in 2008.
There are two types of artist I know: those who love the council-system and those who dislike it for encouraging ‘safe’ work.
I’m of the latter sort. My feelings are that the council system is made up of juries who are into one particular type of art. So, the assumption being that if you’re a painter specializing in the type of portraits and landscapes appreciated by grandmothers, you don’t have a chance of getting a grant. The so-called ‘safe’ work is whatever’s hip, and that’s impossible to pin down from year to year: it’s a fashion, it moves through communities as people imitate one another, it’s original source unknown and unimportant. In today’s globalized culture, the determination of what’s hip is dominated by bigger players, and is probably documented and originated in magazines like Artforum rather than C Magazine. (That’s a specifically visual-arts reference. There was a blurb I saw on a TV news channel scrawl saying that hip-hop is the least well funded of the all the art genres by the Canada Council, and yet hip-hop is obviously the most relevant music genre to most young people. The evident bias there is an example of my point).
I got a couple of grants in my time, and I appreciated them. They allowed me to execute projects without having to invest my own money, of which I had none. Looking back, I’m not sure if these projects meant much to society as a whole, which is why I no longer take the ‘art is important to society’ argument too seriously. I’ve come to think of art as something more private and personal. And I feel I make more money working than I would by relying on the hand-outs of grants and prizes. I dislike the current-system of cultural funding as it exists, but I wouldn’t support scrapping it altogether.
What I don’t like about this type of ‘taxpayer bitching’ is how the ‘angry conservative’ stereotype falls into ‘I don’t want them spending my money…’. I’ve always found this reason to be nonsense. I don’t understand why we don’t teach people to think of taxes as that salary we citizens pay toward the functioning of the state. Imagine if employers started saying, ‘I don’t want you spending my money on drugs, or drunken weekends, or McDonald’s hamburgers, or home stereo systems, or …’ etc. Employers know where to draw that line in minding their own business. We in turn should trust our governments to spend their funding responsibly, and when, as often happens, it is exposed that they haven’t been doing so, there should be scandal, there should be apologies and firings, and we appreciate the reforms that follow. Corruption should never be the norm, but it should never be unexpected either. ‘Show me a completely smooth operation,’ Frank Herbet wrote in one of his Dune novels, ‘and I’ll show you a cover up. Real boats rock.’ 1 In other words, human beings are never perfect, and we shouldn’t expect that.
It should not be the case however that the citizen comes to think of culture as an irresponsible expenditure, and yet that has been allowed to happen within my lifetime. We, as a first world nation, can afford to encourage the imagination. God knows we need to in this country.
We pay taxes and we expect a functioning public service and stable infrastructure in return. We aren’t the United States with a military industrial complex, wherein the government subsidizes global violence. We could instead have a cultural-industrial complex and the most we’d have to suffer is visual pollution and bad music, but it would be preferable to a painful and ugly death. Of course, this isn’t on the table because the money is currently in War, and so when we hear talk of Canadian governments trying to attract investment in science, we should ask, science for what? The fact that the Cdn Gov blocked the sale of MDA to land-mine-manufacturing ATK this past week shows that we aren’t immune to such questions and considerations.
When we are told triumphantly that the provincial and/or federal government is running a budget surplus, it is evident that they could be doing much more for the citizens. Unfortunately, a penny-pinching mentality has taken hold, which may be useful as private citizens (I’m currently in a penny-pinching mode myself) but I’m not sure it serves the public interest. If anything, governments should be more forthcoming about their plans for a surplus. Paying off some debt – fine. But holding on to it indefinitely? Not so fine. Are you trying to accumulate interest on the monies so that it grows further? Ok, sure. But when are we going to get a day-care system, and a guaranteed income, and bigger minimum wages, and fatter old-age pension cheques, and investment in affordable housing, better and more frequent public transit, lower tuition rates, cancellation of student-loan debt, and on and on…?
The government still seems to think that its constituents are ignorant people with personal attachments to numbers on pay-stubs who can somehow magically trace those exact numbers into the pockets of the so-called welfare mom all pissy because they’ve been legislated into civilized compassion. Soupcoff echoes this argument when she says ‘Canadians are accustomed to having their money transferred from their own bank accounts to those of the nation’s broadcasters, sculptors and poets.’ Soupcoff then plays a class-card, by writing, ‘Government funding ensures that every time these affluent aesthetes sit down to hear a live piano concerto, they enjoy a nice subsidy from lower-class taxpayers, who are sitting at home reading their Harry Potter books and listening to their Nine Inch Nails CDs. It just doesn’t seem fair.’
I for one have been to a live piano concerto, and that was when I could afford it under the TSO’s program of selling $12 tickets to those under 30. Since I’m now over 30, I haven’t been to the TSO in four years. I did however buy the latest Nine Inch Nails CD this past week, to listen to when I want a change from the classical music I used to stream from CBC 2 and which I now get from alternative outlets like Classical 96.3 or icebergradio.com. My personal example here to say that there’s room in life for both Harry Potter and Tolstoy, and that Nine Inch Nails is actually pretty good.
Class-based access to culture is the result of both education and pricing. But it’s also a question of interest. So what if some people just aren’t interested? I’m not interested in Harry Potter (I haven’t read any of the books or seen any of the movies) and in this binary I’m lucky: this makes me look like I made ‘the right choice’ to people like Harold Bloom, who would be happy to see me reading Macbeth if I was interested in magic. But if millions are loving Harry Potter, clearly I’m missing out on something. It’s just a question of taste. (And while Bloom has a point in questioning it’s literary value, life needs the occasional piece of candy).
Greater funding should translate in greater accessibility. The reward of the arts should be available to all. This argument justifies libraries: publicly funded knowledge made accessible. Would Soupcoff suggest we shut down all libraries because people can buy whatever books they want at Indigo/Chapters? My understanding is that type of argument would have been made in the 19th Century, when publicly funded childhood schooling was considered controversial. But we’ve come to take democratized education and accessible knowledge for granted. We are in the process of achieving a future society where the arts will also be taken for granted and be thus ensured against this type of financial short-sightedness. But we are not there yet.
Perhaps it needs to be said that the argument for ceasing funding was allowed to take hold because the arts were allowed to become incomprehensible. (It did not have to be that way, but that is past. The mistake is allowing it to continue).
To that end, Marni Soupcoff and I agree that, “The decision about what to watch — American Idol or A Beachcombers Christmas — should be one people make for themselves,’ but we do not agree that, ‘[it is]not one the government makes for them (or at least tries to: Despite its best efforts, the government still hasn’t succeeded in getting more than a handful of us to watch CBC television, even if we do pay for it).’ The Government doesn’t make us to anything. As for the CBC, our ‘failure to watch’ is indicative of the corporation’s mismanagement and cultural stupidity. They thought we wanted to watch ‘The One‘.
The traditionally called Higher Arts are more often than not rendered distasteful by being poorly taught, and those like myself who pursue them do so either because they weren’t taught at all (as in my case; no opportunity was taken to ruin them for me) or because the person has a inexplicable passion for them (which also used to be true in my case). Soupcoff: ‘But let’s be honest — who makes up the majority of the audiences of symphonies, art galleries and ballets? It’s middle-class and rich people who can afford to pay for their own entertainment.’
I hate ballet and I don’t understand why Karen Cain is a house-hold name and Jeff Wall is not. Nor, for that matter, why Rex Harrington’s retirement made it onto the CTV news in 2003. But it doesn’t bother me that it’s funded. I went to art school because I wanted to study the arts. For that I was seen by my conventional friends as being weird. I think it’s weird that Toronto has a ballet school, but that’s just to say I sympathize with its potential students, and I’m glad I live in a society where young girls who want to destroy their feet and starve themselves for the pleasure of jumping into the arms of a gay man have a place where they can go and feel welcome. In other words, it’s nice that people have options when it comes to doing something with their lives. And whatever encourages the broadening of those options is a good thing, even if it does to some seem weird.
To that end, we have the arts: it is the realm of imagination where alternative ways to think and live one’s life are fostered. For example, we have been progressively moving toward a more peaceful and ‘civilized’ (in the mannered since of the term) soceity2, inspired by the examples offered to us in movies and novels. Consider how Star Trek‘s universally acknowledged attraction is it’s vision of a future of inclusion and peace-on-Earth. But Star Trek is an American show and offers an American vision of an American future. If the CBC were living up to its mandate, it would support a Canadian future-based program, to give us some sense of what our future might be like. History is necessary, the present is obvious, but what kind of world are we moving toward? A valid question. We have too many future scenarios that offer dystopias, and we need more utopian ones to inspire us. This is not a job that funding ‘math and science’ will do for us. If the math-n-science is to take us to the Moon and Mars, ask where the idea of going off-world came in the first place.
On the April 7th 2008 episode of TVO’s The Agenda, Steve Paikin asked former Ontario Finance minister Greg Sorbara how high the arts rated in the government’s priorities:
Steve Paikin: Honestly, honestly, how high up the ladder are cultural institutions in the Minster of Finance’s play-book?’ Greg Sorbara: During my time they were really high up. SP: They’re not education, and they’re not health care. GB: You know what, they are what creates a healthy city and they are the way in which we educate ourselves. But the fact is, the future of this city and of this region is in arts and creativity and the production of those arts and the dissemination of that creativity. (Mp3 at 14:50)
Sobera’s answer was wonderful, but I think it could have also been answered this way: ‘what’s the point of having health care and education if you’re going to spend your life bored?’
Daniel Richler once described Mike Harris and Ralph Klein as examples of educational failure, and since hearing him say that 3 I’ve always kept that in mind. The people who Marni Soupcoff is pandering to are educational failures. I don’t care what kind of credentials an MBA or the like amounts to if your indifference to the arts has become openly hostile, and if you’re prone to use words like ‘loser’ when thinking of them. If that’s the case, your education has been no such thing. If you managed to go to university, you paid for your job training and partially subsidized your voluntary lobotomization. An educated person can be indifferent to the arts, but they should at least recognize their value.
As I’ve written, I’m not that much of a fan of the arts-councils. But I support public funding of culture. I just think the process could use reformation. If the Canadian Council was able to fund Soupcoff to go on a self-education sabbatical during which she expose herself to what the best of human beings have been able to achieve, perhaps she might be grateful. However, you can lead the horse to water, but you can’t make them drink. Or, as I’ve heard recently, ‘you can cure ignorance but you can’t cure stupid’.
I’d like to see politicians and journalists start pandering to this societies’ educated rather than to its stupid.
__________________
1. Chapterhouse Dune, 1985, p. 119
2. My position is that the democratic deficit is to blame for increasing violence: governance is disconnected from the citizens who want more social services and less military spending.
3. On the defunct CBC Friday night program out of Vancouver; name of which I don’t remember, circa 2002
I’ve come to realize that the CBC is obsolete, and all the fuss and bother about classical music ‘disappearing’ from CBC 2 is pointless. I listen to classical on the net all the time. I prefer it actually, since I can do without the CBC hosts. (That promo guy they have on now drives me nuts; not to mention all the other falsely enthusiastic banter).
For the past two days this is what I listened to at work:
I’ve been sympathetic to Russell Smith’s defense of CBC 2 in his Globe column over the past couple of years, even bringing up his arguments to a CBC employee I once knew.
Marc Weisblott, in reviewing this for his latest ‘Scrolling Eye’ post on the Eye website, writes
What [Russell Smith] said during a debate on CBC Radio One’s The Current on Wednesday was a bit more nuanced, though, advocating radio for “the sensitive kid bored by the beer-drinking frat culture” like he was. “There are hundreds of thousands of emo kids, and underprivileged kids, around the country who need an escape from the boredom of the bored mass culture around them.”
But, when those proverbial emo kids have never touched a terrestrial radio in their lives, the only place to turn is to the vitriolic greybeards.
…Exactly. I was one of those sensitive kids bored then & now by frat culture, and that’s why I listened to CBC 2. But I’m dismayed to find the same voices on it that were there when I was a child (Jurgen Gothe, I’m thinking of you, and wish you well in your upcoming retirement).
The internet is now there for curious and sensitive youth. With regard to classical, I tend to use Wikipedia to find a location to download it from when I want something for the iPod. The only way Smith’s argument stands up for me is to consider sensitive bored kids using dial-up on the Prairie. In that case, one should bring the protests to the likes of Bell, who’ve begun throttling bandwidth.
To remain relevant to the 21st Century, the CBC should become an ISP, and primarily focus on net streams. Radio should be so old hat to them they could afford to treat it as an afterthought. The situation at the present moment is the reverse. While they did revamp their website last fall, they are still focused on using Windows Media Player, still being stingy with MP3 downloads and podcasting, and still have a stream which is prone to buffering errors.
I get the message, and the message I have in return is
“Why weren’t these surplus monies given to the arts councils?”
perhaps to
“end the backroom deals” conducted by “the community review and peer assessment”
If you think the government is corrupted by back-room deals, what would it need to do to prove otherwise? Could such a test be passed by ‘community review and a peer assessment’ organizations? The whole point of ‘peer review’ is to build bias into the system in order to favour applicants (this is why it’s an important part of the judiciary – so that in ancient (and contemporary) times, the burden of proof for a criminal charge had to overcome the bias of a jury of peers. And why O.J. Simpson got away with murder: because a jury of his peers decided that burden of proof had not been met, a decision that had to stand because of the nature of the process).
Perhaps the gov thinks
‘enough is enough’ , ie. they perhaps think there are giving enough already.
But then again, there’s always next year. Perhaps Clive Robertson and Vera Frankel should begin a whitepaper to outline why the monies are needed, and what could be done with them. The older I get the more I become sensitive to arguments about responsibility. I ask the following rhetorically: Why should artists assume they are owed a living by society?
I recently heard something like this said by a right-wing pundit: ‘that people shouldn’t assume they are owed a living by society’. I don’t agree, but am not sure at this point what an appropriate counter-argument could be. The right-wingers would have everyone be responsible and manage their money carefully and aim to be self-sufficient. The Amish are probably an ideal here: they’re so excellent at managing money that they refuse all government assistance. They don’t need it. They’re also so self-sufficient they can afford to turn their backs on contemporary society.
I for one don’t appreciate the idea that because some people are fuck-ups and waste money on drugs or MFA degrees that means they should be condemned to poverty and social exclusion. I hate the idea of punishment in all its forms, and this attitude of letting fuck-ups suffer as homeless or whatever I don’t want to support.
That being said, it is a red flag for artists to demand more money. “Why are they not self-sufficient?” This is certainly a valid question concerning how many artists have turned they’re backs to soceity. If you want to be like the Amish, then figure out how to get by without government funds.
We’ve had year after year of being told artists are important for society, but where is the evidence for that? I see grants being used for projects that are more attuned to ‘personal development’ than that of society. This then raises the question of fairness and responsibility: why should artists get grant money to pay the rent while x & y have to work shitty/boring/whatever jobs?
Whenever I talk with artists about applying for grants, they’re always stressed about how to do their write-ups for whatever project which is just a front for them to get three months of rent and grocery money.
Let’s just be honest and ask that the Provincial Government to create a ‘creative subsidy’ so that individuals who are creative can afford regular ‘sabbaticals’. We might as well lobby Richard Florida (since everyone in a Moores suit cares what he thinks) to include a chapter in his next book (to be on indie music) on the need to have time off – weeks, months, or years, during which one is free to stay up all night, or lay around stoned for 48 hours, or spend afternoons at the library. In some of the later texts of Richard Rorty, he wrote about academics’ need to write up their own grants in order to get time off to unwind, recharge, and read. The sabbatical is cherished part of a creative life, and if you want to lobby for more funding, this is what you want to lobby for – a subsidy for the creative to take time off.
So, getting back to this poster: the Ontario Government helped out institutions who are now better positioned to support the creatives within the community. Boo-hoo. They want the backroom deals to favour them directly, not the only market for their type of art. Whan whan.
A dream of a clone of Axel Rose releasing Chinese Democracy, and starting to tour it, when the REAL Axel Rose attacks him on stage, gripping him in a headlock and harrangues the clone and the audience, saying ‘the record isn’t fucking ready yet’.
•
Rainy Spring days call forth Nirvana from the playlists; angry Kurt Cobains yell through headphones to say, this was the season when my sadness and alienation and stomach condition became all too much. I’ll never have an email address and I won’t know what the fuck a google is. My songs will live forever on compact discs and cassette tapes, I don’t understand what you mean by iTunes and iPods.
By age 28 I looked out onto a world through eyes that had seen more life than the hurt voice on the playlists. By 33 I’d had beer with a fellow who followed Cobain’s example by rounding off his 29 years with a sleep, bookending my own experience with the extra two years on either end. What is life beyond a mindstream experiencing sense impressions? The gossamer thoughts between the ears, the holograms of remembered scenes beyind the eyes, and the occasional flood of music to soup it up. And for some, the movie ends quicker, the awareness peeling itself away from the inside of the skull and walking into a sunny parking lot to find the car.
Kurt Cobain passes out in with noise and a hurt head. This is beyond the temporary amnesia of a concussion, for he comes to having forgoten everything, including where he left his body. He now finds himself a baby, then a child, and now is suffering through school, aged about thirteen. Perhaps now he is a girl? This teenager’s bedroom is covered in posters of rockstars, and perhaps there is a Niravana poster there as well? This Kurt-tulku thinks Kurt Cobain rocked, complelty oblivious to the fact that he’s the same mind. But this is to speculate on something unpredicatable.
Perhaps he’s a pigeon, a dog, your gerbil, or a cat. Perhaps he became a salmon and was eaten in a resaturant.
But in my imagination, this Kurt kid is starting a high school band, discovering he has a fucking great talent for music.
Somewhere on a shelf in San Francisco sits CDs bought in Halifax on Barrington Street. They are old now, there plastic cases fogged with the scratches of use over the years. They were ripped to iTunes a long time ago, and have now become artifacts of the 20th Century, mirrored plastic reflecting no 1990s scenes; hidden in a case, on a shelf, with the Pacific Ocean a park away.
Halifax’s lost last night. Do you know who I mean? Does it not seem as if Halifax’s Page has changed her name from Ellen to Halifax’s, since I haven’t ever seen it written without that qualifier?
Skepticism toward global warming is reprehensible because of the attitude behind it. This skepticism is not directed toward the understandably biased oil companies, nor is it directed toward politicians and religious figures, but rather, it doubts whether or not we should care about our environment. It’s as if it’s a feminine weakness to want clean land, clean water, and clean air. It’s asking too much that we live without polluting or without stressing the biosphere.
To live cleanly in this regard, to live in such a way that is sustainable, is to be called to a more sophisticated life. But again, this asking too much, for it is easier to continue to unwrap the cellophane from the packet of cigarettes and drop it to the ground. Through this `fuck-it` action you prove yourself to be a rebel and cool, and not some airy-fairy girly-hippy environmentalist.
If I die of cancer I don’t want it said that I lost ‘a courageous battle’. Life isn’t a war. Shit happens and we all die of something. Tonight on the news it was reported that someone had died of a brain tumor, and it has become the formulaic phrase, to say ‘he lost his courageous battle with cancer’. The rule for ESL students is: ‘courageous battle with cancer’.Again, life is not a war.With this is mind, consider annual growth rates in economics. Is is fair to say that the only thing in nature that grows as much as the economy is supposed to is cancer? Then, will we ever reach a point when it is said, ‘the nation lost its courageous battle with the economy’s growth rate today’.
John Ralston Saul, Voltaire’s Bastards (1992), pages: 503-504:
Buddhist societies are horrified by a great deal in the West, but the element which horrifies them most is our obsession with ourselves as a subject of unending interest. By their standards nothing could be unhealthier than a guilt-ridden1, self-obsessed, proselytizing white male or female, selling God or democracy or liberalism or capitalism with insistent superior modesty. It is clear to the Buddhist that this individual understands neither herself nor his place. He is ill at ease in his role; mal dans sa peau; a hypocrite taking out her frustrations on the world.
As for the contemporary liberated Westerner, who thinks of himself relaxed, friendly, open, in tune with himself and eager to be in tune with others – he comes across as even more revolting. He suffers from the same confused superiority as his guilt-ridden predecessor but has further confused himself by pretending that he doesn’t feel superior. While the Westerner does not see or consciously understand this, the outsider sees it immediately. The Westerner’s inability to mind his own business shows a lack of civilization. Among his most unacceptable characteristics is determination to reveal what he thinks of himself – his marriages, divorces and children; his feelings and loves. […] Any man or woman produced by the Judeo-Christian tradition is dying to confess – unasked, if necessary. What the Buddhist seeks in the individual is, first, that he understands he is part of a whole and therefore of limited interest as a part and, second, to the extant that he tries to deal with the problem of his personal existence, he does so in a private manner. The individual who appears to sail upon calm waters is a man of quality. Any storms he battles within are his own business.
Of what, then, does Western individualism consist? There was a vision, in the 19th Century, of the individualist as one who acted alone. He had to do so within the constrains of a well-organized society. Even the the most anti-restraint of thinkers – John Stuart Mill – put it that ‘the liberty of the individual must be thus far limited, he must no make himself a nuisance to other people’.2
But if the constraints of 19th Century Western civilization did put him in danger of causing a nuisance, he could simply go, or be sent to the frontiers of North and South America or to Australasia. […] Rimbaud fled Paris and poetry for an isolated Abyssinian trading post, where his chief business was rifles and slaves. This personal freedom killed him, as it did many others. […] Even without leaving the West, a man eager for individual action could find room for maneuver within the rough structures which stretched beyond the 19C middle-class society. In the slums, hospitals and factories, men from suffocating backgrounds could struggle against evil or good as if they were at war. By the 1920s, the worst of these rough patches were gone and the individual’s scope of action was seriously limited. In a stable, middle-class society, restraint was highly prized. Curiously enough, this meant that, with even the smallest unrestrained act, a man could make a nuisance of himself and thus appear to be an individual. 3
This is one explanation for the rise of artistic individualism – a form of existentialism which did not necessarily mean leaving your country, although it often did involve moving to the margins of society. The prototypes were Byron and Shelley, who fled in marital disorder across Europe, calling for political revolution along the way. Lermontov was another early model – exiled to the Caucasus, where he fought frontier wars, wrote against the central powers he hated and engaged in private duels. Victor Hugo was a later and grander example …4
Footnotes
1. In Greg Bear’s Queen of Angels the A.I. Jill’s analysis of punishment incorporates the thought that guilt is a result of our self-aware modeling, our recognition that we have failed somehow in the mind’s of Others. Jill thinks (p.417): ‘The self-aware individual in a judgment-society experiences guilt as a matter of course; to lack guilt, the individual must be poor at modeling and therefore inefficient in society, perhaps even criminal’. This line of argument is introduced on page 211, with the pseudo-author Bhuwani quote: ‘With self-awareness comes a sharper awareness of one’s place in society, and an awareness of transgression – that is, guilt.’
2. Consider how we live in a culture that makes a currency out of misery and problems, so that you end up talking about them in some social situation or another. How with someone you are likely to start gossiping about another person, their relationships and such, even though it’s none of your business. But, if you catch yourself doing this and want to take the high road and refuse to discuss what’s none of your business, you are more likely to hurt your conversant’s feelings. One needs to trade social information to maintain good relations. Similarly, one gets into discussing one’s problems for similar reasons. Trade your stories of misery so that we know you’re a member of the group, so that the others can feel good trying to help you and live with the illusion that they are either compassionate or not as bad off, and thus a little superior.
But, as above, becoming a nuisance to others by volunteering too much information about oneself is such a frequent occurrence nowadays. As Theodore Dalrymple as written, in this example describing an encounter with a dying man:
There had been no protest, no self-pity, no demand for special attention. He understood that I commiserated with him, though I said nothing except that I was sorry to see that he was unwell, but he understood also that my commiseration was of a degree commensurate with the degree of our acquaintance, and that demanded no extravagant and therefore dishonest expression. By controlling his emotion, and his grief at his own imminent death, so that he should not embarrass me, he maintained his dignity, and self-respect. He retained a sense of social obligation, a vital component of what used to be called character, until the very end of his life. I mention these people not because they were in any way extraordinary – a claim they would never have made for themselves – but because they were so ordinary. They were living up to a cultural ideal that, if not universal, was certainly very widespread (as my [foreign] wife would confirm). It is an ideal that I find admirable, because it entails a quasi-religious awareness of the metaphysical equality of mankind: that I am no more important than you. This was no mere intellectual or theoretical construct; it was an ideal that was lived. Unlike the claim to rights, which is often shrill and is almost so self-regarding that it makes the claimant the center of his own moral universe, the old cultural ideal was other-regarding and social in nature. It imposed demands upon the self, not upon others; it was a discipline rather than a benefit. Oddly enough, it led to a greater and deeper contentment, capacity for genuine personal achievement, and tolerance of eccentricity and nonconformity than our present, more egotistical ideals.
Dalrymple has said [in the CBC Ideas podcast, ‘The Ideas of Theodore Dalrymple’] that we treat emotion as type of pus that we feel must be released or else harm occurs. One ‘has to let one’s hair down’ etc; the abandonment of civilized restraint is popularly believed to be psychologically healthy.
3. Curiously enough, this meant that, with even the smallest unrestrained act, a man could make a nuisance of himself and thus appear to be an individual. Consider how at the 15th minute of Martin Scorsese’s Bob Dylan bio-documentary, No Direction Home (Part I) we get the interviews with Manchester’s 1966 youth, who are critical of Dylan’s turn to electric guitars and the apparent abandonment of his previous acoustic folk singing. The young men are thoughtful in their answers, but one says he thinks Dylan’s gone commercial, that he thinks ‘he’s prostituting himself’. ‘Prostituting himself’ is said as it comes to mind, said strongly into the camera’s lens, and when finished this boy smiles slightly, proud of his act of strong words. This is soon followed by a young man whose thoughts on it are equally considered but at 15:41 he says, ‘this I just can’t stick,’ and then catches himself with sudden upraised eyebrows and a muttered ‘excuse [me]’, as if we was expecting a whack upside the head from a schoolmaster for his indiscretion.
Of course, in today’s world, such young men (and women) would be inarticulate and full of (probably drunken) swagger, wearing some fucking t-shirt with a message printed across it and saying whatever came to mind, and if it needed bleeping, so be it.
4. Of the likes of Byron: the so called romantic figure, the romantic genius. Richard Rorty, (an excerpt from an audio interview, played on Australian ABC’s Philosopher’s Zone in their tribute program after his death) said:
I think individual romantic figures like Coleridge, Emerson, Whitman, Nietzsche, Derrida, are people who are engaged in romantic projects of self-creation, and this means, in the case of thinkers and poets, finding words that have never been spoken before, words that have no public currency, no public resonance, though they may become the literal meanings, the common coin of future generations.
And in an interview conducted for the RU Sirius program in August 2005, Rorty said,
Novels certainly suggest new ways of doing things. Revolutionary political manifestos, poems, religious prophecies, they all stimulate the youth to make themselves different from their parents and thus produce a human future different from the human past.
He had made similar points before, and this can be found in his 1989 book, Contigency, Irony, and Solidarity (on page 7):
What the Romantics expressed as the claim that imagination, rather than reason, is the central human faculty was the realization that a talent for speaking differently, rather than for arguing well, is the chief instrument of cultural change. What the political utopians since the French Revolution have sensed is not that an enduring, substratal human nature has been suppressed or repressed by ‘unnatural’ or ‘irrational’ social institutions but rather that changing languages and other social practices may produce beings of a sort that had never before existed.
The previous pages had this:
Europe did not decide to accept the idiom of Romantic poetry, or of socialist politics, or of Galilean mechanics. That sort of shift was no more an act of will than it was a result of argument. Rather, Europe lost the habit of using certain words and gradually acquired the habit of using others. As Kuhn argues in The Copernican Revolution, we did not decide on the basis of some telescopic observations … that the Earth was not the centre of the universe, that macroscopic behavior could be explained on the basis of microstructural motion, and that prediction and control should be the principal aim of scientific theorizing. Rather, after a hundred years of inconclusive muddle, the Europeans found themselves speaking in a way which took these interlocked theses for granted.
In other words, the contributions made by the 19th Century ‘romantic figures of self-creation’ was to add new, inspirational language to the discussion, through their novels, plays, and poems. In the case of Rimbaud, the package of consists in adding to the language and then the example of abandonment.
To be engaged in such a project, of discovering for oneself both a language and life, required defiance, and it created the contemporary social condition that John Ralston Saul describes in the chapter from which I took the excerpt above. JRS’ point is to say that the conditions of defiance in the 19th Century is far different from that of the late 20th and early 21st. This is because, as Rorty says on page 55 of the Contingency book:
The creation of a new form of cultural life, a new vocabulary, will have its utility explained only retrospectively. We cannot see Christianity or Newtonianism or the Romantic movement or political liberalism as a tool while we are still in the course of figuring out how to use it. For there are as yet no clearly formulatable ends to which it is a means. But once we figure out how to use the vocabularies of these movements, we can tell a story of progress, showing how the literalization of certain metaphors served the purpose of making possible all the good things that have recently happened. Further, we can now view all these good things as particular instances of some more general good, the overall end which the movement served. […] Christianity did not know that its purpose was the alleviation of cruelty, Newton did not know that his purpose was modern technology, the Romantic poets did not know that their purpose was to contribute to the development of an ethical consciousness suitable for the culture of political liberalism. But we now know these things, for we latecomers can tell the kind of story of progress which those who are actually making progress cannot. We can view these people as toolmakers rather than discoverers because we have a clear sense of the product which the use of those tools produced. The product is us – our conscience, our culture, our form of life. Those who made us possible could not have envisaged what they were making possible, and so could not have described the ends to which their work was a means. But we can.
JRS’ point in this chapter is to critique how our culture which supposedly privileges romantic rebellion, is in fact conformist. As he says, closing the section from which the excerpt is taken: ‘Today’s individualism can’t really be compared to all this existential activity. Is there a relationship between frontiersman and the self-pampering modern dentist? Between the French Legionnaire and the downhill-skiing Porsche driver? Between the responsible citizen of a secular democracy and the executive cocaine sniffer? All these people were and are engaged in a form of defiance. But there does not appear to be much room for comparison. The phenomena belong to separate worlds.’
The world that we belong to has been created by the example of the 19th Century Romantics, but we do not carry on their legacy. Rather (as a society) we’ve found new ways to conform, ways which we aren’t fully conscious, or understanding of. In the process, we have now generally become more obnoxious, since our defiance has become normalized. We’ve become nuisances to one another, without having experienced the peace of mind that comes from minding our own business. Within this circumstance their is still a need for individuals-who-wish-to-do-so to act out in ‘romantic projects of self-creation’ yet one hopes that they strive to create a new language, rather than learn to speak an already established one.
Rebbecca Young had this in her Facebook, and I’ve decided to fill it out too:
Single or Taken: single Happy about that: not really Siblings: a sister Eye color: brown Height: 5’11 Can you make a dollar in change right now?: yes considering I’m at my desk and my change jar is to my right.
FAVORITES Kind of pants: I don’t even know how to describe pants Number: 15 comes to mind Animal: nothing comes to mind. Oh wait, maybe bears. Also I currently have a thing for eagles but that’s only because of a recent read novel. Drink (non alcoholic): water Sports: none Month: October Juice: Orange Favorite cartoon character: Bugs Bunny maybe. Cartman from South Park comes to mind too.
HAVE YOU EVER…..? Given anyone a bath?: No Bungee Jumped? : No Made yourself throw-up?: No Eaten a dog: Only hot dogs Loved someone so much it made you cry?: yes if you mean from heartbreak Played truth or dare?: yes Been on a plane?: yes Came close to dying?: not really Been in a sauna?: I don’t think the ones at the community pool counts, so no, but yes if they do. Been in a hotub?: yes Swam in the ocean?: yes Fallen asleep in school?: yes Ran away?: no Broken someone’s heart?: I really don’t think so. But maybe. I wouldn’t know. Cried when someone died?: yes Cried in school?: Yes. Elementary school sucked that fucking much. Fell off your chair?: yes Sat by the phone all night waiting for someone to call?: Maybe back in the mid-90s, but certainly not recently. Saved MSN conversations?: Yes Saved e-mails?: All the time Used someone?: I would have to say yes. Been cheated on?: I don’t think so.
WHAT IS… your good luck charm?: I don’t have one. your new favorite song?: ‘Music is my hot hot sex’ by Cansei de ser sexy beside you?: tape dispenser, swiss army knife, desktop clutter to right. book shelves, printer, window to my left last thing you ate?: apple muffins What kind of shampoo/conditioner do you use?: anti-dandruff stuff
EVER HAD… Chicken pox: yes Sore Throat: yes Stitches: yes Broken a bone: no
DO YOU… Believe in love at first sight?: yes Have a Long distance relationship?: no Like school?: no Who was the last person that called you?: the girl from the agency Who was the last person you slow danced with?: It’s been too many years for me to remember that. Who makes you smile the most?: Danielle Williams Who knows you the best?: Maybe Danielle? But I don’t feel well known by anyone at all. Do you like filling these out: I’m doing it aren’t I? Do you wear contact lenses or glasses?: both
Do you like yourself: yes Do you get along with your family?: yes
ARE YOU… Suicidal? : no What did you do yesterday: not much. today was more productive Gotten any awards?: yes What car/truck do you wish to have?: none Where do you want to get married?: I don’t really go for marriage stuff. Good driver?: yes Good Singer?: no
THIS OR THAT.. Scary or Funny Movies?: hate scary, funny: Big Leibowski comes to mind. There are others of course, but this is my favorite. Chocolate or Vanilla? : chocolate Root beer or Dr.Pepper? : root beer Skiing or Boarding?: neither Summer or Winter?: this year it’s winter Silver or Gold? : sometimes silver, gold’s got something going on to, but for the most part I find the whole affection for such metals absurd. Diamond or Pearl?: neither Sprite or 7up? : they’re the fucking same Coffee or Sweet tea? : coffee Are you oldest, middle or youngest? : oldest
TODAY DID YOU… Talk to someone you liked: no Buy something: no Get sick?: no Talked to an ex? : no miss someone?: no
LAST PERSON WHO… Slept in your bed?: me Saw/heard you cry?: no one Made you cry? : i don’t really remember crying stuff. My Dad though comes to mind Went to the movies with?: I think that must have been Ed, back in February.
Ever been in a fight with your pet?: no pets Been to Mexico?: no Been to Canada?: live there Been to Florida? : no
RANDOM… do you own a lava lamp?: no How many remote controls are in your house?: More than I can think of What was your last dream about?: Not sure about last night, but a couple of nights ago I dreamt I was getting arrested at a Guantanmo Bay conference. What book are you reading now?: more than I want to list here Best feeling in the world?: orgasm Future KIDS names?: Coco if it’s a girl, boy undecided Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?: no What’s under your bed?: papers Favorite sports to watch?: none Favorite Locations?: nothing comes to mind, ‘cept maybe some parks Piercing/Tattoos?: no Who do you really hate?: Members of the Bush Administration but upon them I wish peace (props to the metta meditation training). Do you have a job?: not presently Have you ever liked someone you didn’t have a chance with?: all the time Are you lonely right now?: yes Song that’s stuck in your head right now?: maybe the Hot Hot Sex one above
Have you ever played strip poker? no Have you ever been on radio/TV?: yes Ever liked someone, but thought they’d never notice you?: all the fucking time. in fact, related to your last question, I like someone right now who was on tv today. Whats the first things you notice about the opposite sex (visual)?: if I’m behind them its the ass, from the front face Are you too shy to ask someone out?: not if I’ve been drinking Butter, Plain or Salted popcorn?: butter and salted, but only when I indulge Dogs or cats?: dogs Favorite Flower?: hibiscus maybe? Do you like to travel by plane as opposed to car?: no How many pillows do you sleep with?: three How long did it take you to do this survey?: I didn’t keep count
Goodreads |2007 week 46 number 5 (Classic Academic Bullshit)
Worth quoting in full (after all, it is a press release) with emph mine:
What’s in a name? Initials linked to success, study shows (Link)
Do you like your name and initials? Most people do and, as past research has shown, sometimes we like them enough to influence other important behaviors. For example, Jack is more likely to move to Jacksonville and marry Jackie than is Philip who is more likely to move to Philadelphia and marry Phyllis. Scientists call this phenomenon the “name-letter effect” and argue that it is influential enough to encourage the pursuit of name-resembling life outcomes and partners.
However, if you like your name too much, you might be in trouble. Leif Nelson at the University of California, San Diego and colleague Joseph Simmons from Yale University, found that liking your own name sabotages success for people whose initials match negative performance labels.
In their first study, Nelson and Simmons investigated the effect of name resemblance on batters’ strikeouts. In baseball, strikeouts are recorded using the letter ‘K.’ After analyzing Major League Baseball players’ performance spanning 93 years, the researchers found that batters whose names began with ‘K’ struck out at a higher rate than the remaining batters. “Even Karl ‘Koley’ Kolseth would find a strikeout aversive, but he might find it a little less aversive than players who do not share his initials, and therefore he might avoid striking out less enthusiastically,” write the authors.
In a second study, the researchers investigated the phenomenon in academia. Letter grades are commonly used to measure students’ performance, with the letters ‘A,’ ‘B,’ ‘C’ and ‘D’ denoting different levels of performance. Nelson and Simmons reviewed 15 years of grade point averages (GPAs) for M.B.A. students graduating from a large private American university.
Students whose names began with ‘C’ or ‘D’ earned lower GPAs than students whose names began with ‘A’ or ‘B.’ Students with the initial ‘C’ or ‘D,’ presumably because of an unconscious fondness for these letters, were slightly less successful at achieving their conscious academic goals.
Interestingly, students with the initial ‘A’ or ‘B’ did not perform better than students whose initials were grade irrelevant. Therefore, having initials that match hard-to-achieve positive outcomes, like acing a test, may not necessarily cause an increase in performance. However, after analyzing law schools, the researchers found that as the quality of schools declined, so did the proportion of lawyers with name initials ‘A’ and ‘B.’
The researchers confirmed these findings in the laboratory with an anagram test. The result of the test confirmed that when people’s initials match negative performance outcomes, performance suffers. These results, appearing in the December issue of Psychological Science, provide striking evidence that unconscious wants can insidiously undermine conscious pursuits.
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Author Contact: Leif Nelson ldnelson@ucsd.edu
Psychological Science is ranked among the top 10 general psychology journals for impact by the Institute for Scientific Information. For a copy of the article “Moniker Maladies: When Names Sabotage Success” and access to other Psychological Science research findings, please contact Catherine West at (202) 783-2077 or cwest@psychologicalscience.org.
The Rady School of Management at UC San Diego educates global leaders for innovation-driven organizations. A professional school within one of the top-ranked institutions in the U.S. for higher education and research, the Rady School offers a Full-Time MBA program, a FlexMBA program for working professionals, undergraduate and executive education courses. Our lineage includes 16 Nobel Laureates (former and current faculty) and eight MacArthur Foundation award recipients. The Rady School at UC San Diego transforms innovators into business leaders.
Comments: I’m thankful that the author of this press-release took the time to explain letter grades to me, and thought it was interesting that students with initials ‘a’ and ‘b’ did not perform better than students with grade-irrelevant initials, which is only the entire rest of the alphabet. This alone seems to make such a correlation absurd.
The only reason I’d understand having the scale explained is to account for the international audience, but then again, this is written in English, so it’s not like there are a ton of Chinese out there who suddenly know about how North American grading works. For the Europeans, I imagine they’ve watched enough American movies and television to already be familiar with the system.
Is the argument then that the increased ’slightly less’ performance of the world’s Cynthia Donaldsons, Charles Davies’, Duncan Camerons is based partially on their names? So you’re saying that the reason Albert Burns got an 80, whereas David Connors got a 78 is because of their names?! Is this is why Cory Doctorow believes in ‘anti-copyright policies’!?
And this from a school that considers itself an educator of global leaders! No wonder the world is so fucked up. For one thing, such a study takes for granted a measurement of success which is itself a social construction dating back a century and out-of-step with the needs of present society. For example I imagine that to graduate with top marks from an MBA school you’d need to do rather poorly in the ethics department, especially environmental ethics. Failing the Humanities would also help, since at no point should you consider your employees as human beings desiring to live full lives. They must be refered to as ‘human resources’ (which would have served as a perfectly adequate term for slavery). Their natural desire to be as richly compensated as your gang at the top of the hierarchy must be kept in check and exploited for ’superior job performance’.
The fact that they felt the need to explain to us the letter-grade system seems to be evidence of an inability to imagine another, from which the ethical disasters of capitalism naturally follow. Further, the awarding of the marks leading to grades is mostly arbitrary, and dependent on many factors, including the fact that teachers are as biased as any other human being. So Connor gets 77 while James gets 80 because the teacher likes James more and gave a slightly higher mark to his answers over Connor, who doesn’t say a lot in class.
This study is trying to suggest that Connor, Cory, Charles, Cynthia, Duncan, David, etc, have an ‘unconscious attachment’ to their initials and are thus sabotaging their ’success’ in order to see it written on their tests as a reward counterbalancing the anguish of feeling like a failure. Not to mention the subsequent mockery from the class’ ’successful’ students (a mockery which is ‘unconsciously’ endorsed by the teacher since schools are supposed to help establish the pecking order, so that the authors of this press-release and study get sorted by high grades into university; then onto Masters and PHD programs and are then able to conduct such stupid studies open to such easy mockery).
As for the quoted baseball example, it is equally absurd and subject to the same critique offered above.
In my arbitrary grading system, based on my measurements of success, this study gets an F. Or, no, no, I’ll make the system so that L and N are the lowest grades, and J isn’t much higher, to make it fit with Leif Nelson’s and Joseph Simmons’ thesis.
It’s not so simple as saying we have something called computers which are connected to a network of wires. They’d be like, what? Our intuitive understanding of the Internet comes from our understanding of things like photographs, phones, and television.
So, Galileo walks into a bar…
First, we learned of a way to preserve the image projected by a lens.
Then we discovered that many such images, seen quickly in succession, would appear to move.
Then we harnessed the power of lightning. We learned it was a type of liquid which we could transmit things through, like the way sound can travel great distances in bodies of water. Just as water can become a part of the air through boiling, so too could the liquid of lightning become part of the air, and we found a way to take our images, which when strung together and looked at quickly would appear to move, and we turned them into air, so that people with boxes all over the world could see these moving images. These boxes were really just fat framed piece of glass, all the parts making it work residing inside. It would just run through the images we had beamed through the air using electricity. We also found a way to document sound, and so when we synced up the sounds to the moving images, it looked like the people were as alive as they appear to us now.
This was about seventy years after we learned of a way to transmit voices using the power of lightning through wires which we strung between cities and homes in a vast fisherman’s web of connections. (// Q: But why explain TV?
A: Because you need to get them to imagine things moving on glass screens.)
So, we’d found a way to make things move on pieces of glass, using the power of lightning. And we had this network of lines through which we could talk to one another. It took some work but we found a way to hook up the two, and so in the eventually we had these pieces of framed super-glass hooked up to this network, and the glass displays whatever we want on it – printing type, paintings, our mechanic images so described above (which we call ‘photographs’ which is just a pretentious was of saying ‘light drawing’). They are like windows only we can chose what to see through them.
The Case of MB
On 25 November 2006, a Montreal blogger posts the following on his site. Although many of us know exactly who the characters involved are, because of the subsequent legal action I’ve decided it’s best to remove the names. Our Montreal blogger will be referred to below as MB.
Howdy!
According to this article, a guy named [A] was in business with [B], who tried to sell some fake paintings to Loto-Quebec. Because of him, a bunch of different police forces here in Canada started to investigate the Mafia for something like five years, and resulted in them arresting a gazillion and a half people on Thursday.
This might even be a better story than [C].
This was basically a link-out to an article in the National Post which had been published the day before. The article was about A, a car dealer who police claimed was involved with a crime family. Word on the street had it that B was a business partner with A, and that A had stolen paintings from B, as B is a gallery owner. B was actually in business with A’s wife, not A himself.
The subsequent legal action mentioned above was that B sued MB for defamation, because of the above post. Let’s read it again:
According to this article, a guy named [A] was in business with [B], who tried to sell some fake paintings to Loto-Quebec.
According the National Post article, A was in business with B, and B tried to sell some fake paintings to Loto-Quebec. This relates to an even older story from 2003, and is of little consequence here. The defamation in question comes about in the following sentence:
Because of him, a bunch of different police forces here in Canada started to investigate the Mafia for something like five years, and resulted in them arresting a gazillion and a half people on Thursday.
By beginning his sentence with ‘Because of him’ the implication is that he’s referring to the last person named in the previous statement (B) when in fact he’s referring to A. This leads to the legal action, which is initiated in April, when Mr. MB received the first cease-and-desist notification, which apparently asked for the post to be corrected, clarified, or deleted.
My sense is that complying would have been reasonable, except that MB got his back up about it all and ended up deleting his blog. All because of an unclear sentence structure, and the use of the controversy for a relentless self-promotion campaign of interviews with mainstream media organizations.
Fueled by claims of censorship and a lack of free speech, the angle was always that of the little guy being bullied by people with enough money to afford to drag the matter before the courts. This publicity simply exacerbated the situation.
Again, this is simply the result of bad writing, and the real lesson here is not one of censorship, but that one should be clear about one’s references. MB was simply trying to summarize something that had been published by a national newspaper, but in doing so implied not only an association with the party being investigated by police, but the actual offenses supposedly perpetrated by that person. B had every right to ask for the posting to be clarified or deleted.
Email
A book has now been published as a manual for email, and in it’s review, Janet Malcolm quotes the following examples, described as the correspondence between an executive ‘at a large American company in China’ and his secretary:
You locked me out of my office this evening because you assume I have my office key on my person. With immediate effect, you do not leave the office until you have checked with all the managers you support.
To which the secretary replied:
I locked the door because the office has been burgled in the past. Even though I’m your subordinate, please pay attention to politeness when you speak. This is the most basic human courtesy. You have your own keys. You forgot to bring them, but you still want to say it’s someone else’s fault.
Her reply was cc’d to everyone in the company. ‘Before long,’ write Malcolm, ‘the exchange appeared in the Chinese press and led to the executive’s resignation’.
I’m glad to see the executive ended up losing his position, not the secretary. But again, this is the result of bad writing. The executive was probably ignorant of the tone he was conveying with his sentences. His use of the word ‘you’ four times, and the condensation of his instructions into two sentences comes across as curt and unfeeling. The secretary reads it as such, and accuses him of being impolite.
The executive, having risen to the top of ‘a large American company’ must be well versed in the technocratic language of our time. His secretary made the reasonable assumption that he had the wherewithal to carry his own keys, and I’m making the assumption that he’s illiterate – not in the sense that he cannot read or write, but in the sense that he’s not conscious of the effect of his (or the) written word. But then again, one email is not enough to go on for that conclusion: he may have been having a bad day, he may have already been angry about something else, he may have had a company wide reputation for being an asshole to begin with and so on.
Another example from the review clearly implies the executive in question is an asshole:
In this case, the secretary spilled ketchup on the boss’s trousers, and he wrote an email asking for the £4 it cost to have the trousers cleaned (the company was a British law firm). Receiving no reply, he pursued the matter. Finally he—and hundreds of people at the firm—received this email:
Subject: Re: Ketchup trousers
With reference to the email below, I must apologize for not getting back to you straight away but due to my mother’s sudden illness, death and funeral I have had more pressing issues than your £4.
I apologize again for accidentally getting a few splashes of ketchup on your trousers. Obviously your financial need as a senior associate is greater than mine as a mere secretary.
Having already spoken to and shown your email…to various partners, lawyers and trainees…, they kindly offered to do a collection to raise the £4.
I however declined their kind offer but should you feel the urgent need for the £4, it will be on my desk this afternoon. Jenny.
Considering my subject here is what is conveyed by writing, I want to point out that both of these examples convey that the top of the corporate pyramid is inhabited by less-than-human individuals, both male, and both wanting to defer responsibility to their female underlings. One could have clearly carried his keys, while the other could have clearly afforded to cover the cost of cleaning his pants. It is precisely this type of basic inconsideration which fuels the protests against globalized capitalism.
Do Not Consume
My third example comes from a story reported last spring, in which Health Canada attempted to warn people not to drink the water on certain Native reservations. (I’m disgusted by the need to write that sentence, btw: ‘bad water on native reservations’. What century am I living in?)
Health Canada says it plans to revamp its communication strategy about drinking water in aboriginal communities after finding out that its warning ads are not working.Federal Health Minister Tony Clement said Thursday a study has found that its public service announcements, which come in the form of signs and posters, are not clear or effective.
“You live and learn in these things,” Clement said in Ottawa.
Because it was too hard to write, ‘Don’t drink the water’ (that would have been too human, too unprofessional) the signs were written thus:
Do Not Consume Advisory
‘According to the study,’ (study!) CBC reported, ‘residents did not know if the sign referred to their tap water or if the advisory was just a suggestion’.This links back to the example of the executive in China. Corporate language has to be cold, unfeeling, imprecise, technical. The technical aspect is the most important, because it conveys the delusion that one is scientific, and as John Ralston Saul argued with Voltaire’s Bastards, we live within the social cult of Reason. Everything should be as emotionless as an equation.Saul wrote in The Unconscious Civilization (p. 48-49):
In a corporatist society there is no serious need for traditional censorship or burning, although there are regular cases. It is as if our language itself is responsible for our inability to identify and act upon reality.
(Think of how MB is complaining of being censored, when he apparently couldn’t see how his sentence structure could be so misconstrued).
I would put it this way. Our language has been separated into two parts. There is public language – enormous, rich, varied and more or less powerless. Then there is corporatist language, attached to power and action.
(Do Not Consume Advisory)
Corproratist language itself breaks down into three types. Rhetoric, propaganda and dialect. […] For the moment let’s concentrate on dialects. Not the old-fashioned regional dialects, but the specialized, inward looking verbal mechanisms (I’m avoiding the word language because they are not language; they do not communicate) of the tens of thousands of monopolies of fractured knowledge. These are what I would call the dialects of the individual corporations. The social science dialects, the medical dialects, the science dialects, the linguist dialects, the artist dialects. Thousands and thousands of them, purposely impenetrable to the non-expert, with thick defensive walls that protect each corporation’s sense of importance. […]
The reliance on specialist dialects, indeed the requirement to use [them], has become a universal condition of our contemporary elites. …
But the core of the disease is perhaps to be found in the social sciences. These often well-intentioned, potentially useful false [emp mine] sciences feed the dialects of the public and private sectors. […] Economists, political scientists and sociologists in particular have attempted to imitate scientific analysis through the accumulation of circumstantial evidence, but above all, through their parodies of the worst of the scientific dialects. As in business and governmental corporations, the purpose of such obscure language could be reduced to the following formula: obscurity suggests complexity which suggests importance.
Obscurity suggests complexity which suggests importance: Don’t Drink the Water.
Today’s Star reports that ‘Luminato a big success, say organizer’. What is the measure of this success?
‘Attendance was estimated to be more than a million people over the course of the ten days, says festival co-founder David Pecaut. “As you may know we set out an objective originally of half a million, so we more than doubled what we hoped to do in this very first year,” Pecaut said.’
So what if a million people showed up if they all thought it sucked?
Cultural events cannot be measured through numbers. This adds further proof, as Christopher Hume pointed out yesterday, that Luminato functioned as ‘A Businessman’s Notion of a Festival’.
Cultural success should be measured in memories and wonder, which is too ephemeral for a spreadsheet, and too long term for quarterly results.
The Toronto Star ran a story (Luminato: Success or big disappointment?) this morning offering readers the chance to compare and contrast two opposing views with regard to the inaugural Luminato festival. I missed almost all of the festival, which is to say, I didn’t find it very visible. I’m on Christopher Hume’s side that it represented ‘A businessperson’s notion of a festival‘ but I take issue with his write up: a corporate critic’s notion of a critique. There is far more that can be said about the failure of Luminato, a failure which may not be so explicit simply because the business people involved don’t have the imagination to understand the measure of the disappointment.
Hume writes in his third paragraph, defending some of the work:
‘And who couldn’t help but love Xavier Veilhan’s enormous black balls hanging in the atrium of BCE Place? Or Max Streicher’s floating horses at Union Station? Not to mention Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s interactive light show that has been illuminating the night sky for days?’
I take issue with that first sentence ‘.. who couldn’t love …?’ which is precisely the type of stock-phrase Orwell warned writers against sixty years ago. I raise my hand … I am the Dr. Who of that phrase, he who felt nothing for the works mentioned. I didn’t see the light show, but what did I miss that can’t be seen at the end of August during the CNE or during some other corporate promotion when they beam lights into the sky? I walked by BCE last week and saw the ‘big black balls’ (is there supposed to be a pun in there?) and yawned … like I haven’t seen that kind of thing a million times before. Newsflash: every Christmas you can see a giant dead tree at the TD complex and crap hanging from the ceiling at the Eaton Centre.
Last week in conversation I argued that given current law, in which corporations are considered people, it follows that corporations should have their own inhuman art events. The result is something like Luminato, a ten-day bore-fest while the fleshy people get an insomniac’s night at the cold end of September.
L’Oreal Luminato vs. Scotiabank Nuit Blanche
The most obvious initial criticism can be aimed at the names, and the requisite corporate sponsorship which makes it seem like the bank and the make-up company had something profound to contribute to culture. For centuries, arts festivals have amounted to ‘bread and circuses’ put on by the wealthy to keep the poor from rioting but (as both these festivals have shown) that is no longer necessary in the age of internet porn, video games, and the corporate video art of movies and television.
Nuit Blanche is a French import, and in Paris, the name means ‘white night’. Luminato is a made-up word which sounds Italian or Spanish, and obviously allusive of ‘light’. In English, both of these names just come off as pretentious. Consider that for the French, having a festival named in the common language suggests the integration of art with life, whereas, in English, having it come with a pretentious name suggests the separation of art from life. Apparently culture in Toronto, is something one ‘does’ it is not something that is ‘lived’. Further, the naming problem can equally be found in the awkward acronyms that are attached to the two other cultural events – TIAF and TAAFI. Are we stupid or something? Why can’t we have a simple English name for an art fair, one that indicates the lived experience of culture?
Having said this, I acknowledge the first steps that both festivals represent in moving toward such an integration … both attempts are steps forward in bringing this city a cultural experience.
But let us now consider what we might mean by that: a cultural experience? Is not the goal of both festivals to bring the city something of what Europe has been doing for centuries – cultural events born of a time when the wealthy needed their obvious circuses as much as the poor needed their non-technological entertainments? One thinks of the great weddings and performances, the type of theatrical productions linked to the Medici, and those that Leonardo da Vinci orchestrated for the Duke of Milan; in the sixteenth century, the mystery plays which helped inspire a young Shakespeare to write theatre which is now considered the paragon of English expression. To this day, there are street battles with rotten tomatoes, the running of bulls, and town-square horse-races and matadors … Europe knows something of communal culture, which survives because of human scale, it’s simplicity, it’s emotion, and it’s deep relationship to the past.
And so in this year, there are three examples of super-famous arts festivals happening in Europe: The Venice Biennial, Documenta, and Sculpture Projects in Munster, along with the annual events mentioned above.
Luminato? Nuit Blance? Compared to these we have a long way to go before we measure up. The works highlighted by Hume (there were horses at Union Station?) are examples for the type of redecoration which passes for public art today. I’m partially borrowing from Stephen Colbert’s famous critique of Christo’s ‘The Gates’ in which he mocked the orange curtains as ‘redecorating a bike path’ but it seems to me that the big black balls, the inflated horses, the London-blitz light show only serve to highlight our fear of beautiful environments which enable truly cultured lives, and of art that is made by human beings for human beings in small scale facilities and not former warehouse spaces.
Our society is cruel and appreciates violence, anger, and killing – in short, the inhumane. It’s made stars out of so many people who’s behavior is nothing short of reprehensible. It allows people like Harper, Bush and Blair to govern it. And it aligns culture with corporate sponsorship and thinks that ‘if it’s big it’s good’. Luminato was an arts festival by Boomers for Boomers – and so it brought Philip Glass and Leonard Cohen, Eric Idle and Gore Vidal to town. Given what I said earlier about insincere language, it could have accurately been called the Hasbeenato.
In the featurettes that comes with the Lord of the Rings DVDs, the production designers makes passing comments about how beautiful the sets were, and one designer stated he would have loved to have Bilbo Bagins’ study for himself. My question is, why is this the case? Why is it that we’ve reserved beautiful environments for fantasy films? Why couldn’t buddy build himself that same study if he was able to build it for the film? How is it that beautiful environments – and the culture that goes with it – has come to be seen as a guilty pleasure not for everyday life?
When I first noticed the CGI cityscapes being done for the last Star Trek series, I couldn’t help compare that ‘starchicteture’ with the actual starchitecture going up in my city. Daniel Liebskind’s so called ‘radical’ architecture seem extremely conservative when we consider what we could be building instead, inspired by those alien city-scapes.
This is the disconnect between art and life which needs to be bridged – the separation of imagination into something reserved for fantasy, and the other reserved for quotidian functionality. Liebskind and Gehry provide the example of how that does not need to be the case: the technology is there to build whatever our imagination comes up with. Why do we keep settling for boring things, and limit these starchitects to imagining the unimaginative?
The idea that greatness is expensive (funds are still be raised to pay for the ROM and the AGO) is absurd given how much money is wasted everyday. The decadence of our culture isn’t only in our vast consumption of resources, the improvishment of the 90% of the world so that we can live in a society that is disproportionally and grotesquely rich: it’s rather the squandering that takes place (which makes it seem so unjustifiable to our governments that they should introduce limits and attempt to redistribute resources – it’s easier to continue to be inefficient).
Our inefficient use of our unfairly achieved wealth is triply insulting since we aren’t building the Pyramids – some great wonder of the world which could be considered a universal cultural treasure. No, instead we’re getting The Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, Luminato, Michael Lee Chin Crystals, Frank Gehry boats, and cold nights at the end of September for people who can afford to give up a night’s sleep. Considering the money that is potentially available, couldn’t we do something better, something we deserve?
Perhaps though, this all proves that we deserve nothing. These arts festivals amounting to easily forgettable trivialities, in which imagination is not free to express itself when our culture’s true imagination is dictated by television and movies (eagerly paid for and economically self-supporting). This all proves that culturally we already have way more than we need.
If we were asked to give something up in order that people elsewhere have more, chances are we’d barely notice. I barely noticed Luminato, and if the money used for it had been used for some kind of human betterment, we’d be better off. Waterfront light shows, inflatable balloons, hasbeen concerts are worth sacrificing to social justice.
This is also the year during which Sir Paul is 64. I doubt he was thinking he’d be going through a bitter divorce, nor that the studio session would result in the work being reduced to a glyph in a computer’s software program for a company that he’d had a part in suing, a company run by someone who really likes his band. Nor could he have imagined this album cover would be the first image shown by Steve Jobs when showing off the iPhone last January.
Today is the type of day when I should be browsing in used bookstores: spring rain days, with classical music on the iPod, the stickiness of the humidity making my clothes cling as I look at the spines of books on row after row, while the shop owner plays classical music from CBC Radio2. In other words, today is the type of day when I’d rather be employed by a used book dealer than sitting in a florescent lit office.
Two thousand and fifty-one years ago they stabbed him until the blood pooled bright red – almost a neon orange – on the senate chamber floor. They were small of stature and small in number. Outside the spring sun shone done on a younger Rome, and we hear birds chirping, and in the voices of children yelling at each other in Latin.
And here the bravest man lies bleeding, the horror passing through the crowd of men who’ve killed their dictator, and this simple act was not captured on a video phone for us to watch. But people heard about it. In the ensuing power struggle between his nephew and his lieutenant, the story would become known. How he looked at Brutus and asked, ‘you too?’
This Goodreads is in part of confession of ignorance, and how wonderful things can be when you don’t have the full picture. Which is to say, they’re fantastic when not dulled by the acquired cynicism of ‘an inside story’. And perhaps it is by coming to the experience initially ignorant, having that wonderful first impression, that the further nuance associated with it doesn’t diminish its glow.
Two of the items discussed here refer to art exhibitions on in Toronto presently, which is to encourage any of you for whom it is possible to visit them.
These four fantastics are presented in the order in which I experienced them.
I. Fantastic One | Darren O’Donnell at CCL1
Darren O’Donnell’s work over the past couple of years has been fantastic. His Suicide Site Guide to the City wowed me when I saw it in 2005, and apparently this was because of the ignorance mentioned above, as Kamal Al-Solaylee wrote in his review at the time ‘…only audiences who haven’t been to the theatre in say, a few decades, are expected to be dazzled by the presentation’. I admitted in my review that I was one of such an audience. Yet, how could we not appreciate Haircuts by Children or Ballroom Dancing for Nuit Blanche?
In an arts scene riven by competition and jealousies, Darren’s work is something that we all seem to appreciate without such pettiness. I recently attended the latest production from his theatre company, Diplomatic Immunities: THE END and was genuinely touched: Ulysses Castellanos singing Queen’s `We are the Champions` at the end of the show almost made me cry. This was the song voted on by children at a local school to be that which they wanted to hear at the End of the World. (My vote at the present time is either The Beatles’ `Tomorrow Never Knows` or `Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)` and as I listen to them nowadays I imagine it playing over the footage of this video.)
But what is it about Darren’s work along these lines that is so generally fantastic? For me it highlights what is perhaps a greater shift in our culture, which is a movement toward an interest in ‘real life’ (and to that end, reality-tv represents this transition, by using non-actors but still tying them to some sort of narrative structure). The work of Darren’s theatre troupe, Mammalian Diving Reflex, forgoes an explicit narrative structure and seemingly let’s that emerge on it’s own.
Here, I’m most inspired by a snippet of dialogue from a Star Trek show. In the Enterprise episode ‘Dear Doctor’ which first aired in January 2002, there’s a scene depicting movie-night on the starship; while watching ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ a 1943 film being shown in that time-frame of 209 years from its creation, the character Ensign Cutler asks the alien Doctor Phlox, ‘They don’t have movies where you come from do they?’ He replied, ‘We had something similar a few hundred years ago, but they lost their appeal when people discovered their real lives were more interesting’.
Now, imagine living on Phlox’s planet during that time of transition, when people were discovering their own lives were more interesting. Wouldn’t that time resemble our own, with diminishing box office returns, reality-tv programing undermining celebrity culture, a global communications network allowing for unedited dialogue within varying degrees of privacy, and the rise of the documentary genre in popularity?
This statement was typed out initially by a scriptwriter in Los Angeles at the beginning of this decade and perhaps was meant both as an inside joke to Star Trek’s fanbase (Shatner’s ‘Get a Life‘ skit from his 1986 appearance on Saturday Night Live) and reflecting the concern of Hollywood that they would lose their market. Three years later, Enterprise was cancelled, the only franchise since its resurrection twenty years ago to not last through seven seasons.
Leaving DI: The End four weeks ago I was convinced that our own lives were definitely more interesting. The performance incorporated an element of chance in its selection of two audience members during the course of the evening for interviews by the cast and attendees; on the night I was there, I was stunned by the answers given by the second girl chosen, who told us of saving the life of one of her friends during a climbing accident years before. Also, when asked a question along the lines of ‘why are we here’ she gave such an unexpectedly Buddhist/Eastern Tradition answer that I found myself saying ‘wow’.
The point made for me was that this girl, who had simply been someone sitting in the aisle in front of me, had a much more dramatic world inside her than anything I’m ever offered by fictional constructions, and I took this knowledge onto the street, walking with my companion who was someone new in my life and hence still full of mystery, and saw everyone around me with a new appreciation for our variety, our potential, and of the unknown masterpieces of real life.
This past Thursday, I attended Darren’s opening at The Centre of Leisure and Culture No. 1, Video Show for the People of Pakistan and India which consists of an approximately twenty-minute video and chapbooks of the blog Darren kept while on tour in Pakistan and India late last year. I’ve prompted Darren to place this video online eventually, and if and when that happens I’ll follow through with the link.
At the time of Darren’s trip, I was moved to contact CBC’s The Current because I’d recently heard an interview (begins at 7:45min) with the 24 year old Afghani woman Mehria Azizi who was doing a tour through Canada showing a documentary she’d made about women’s lives in her homeland. This had been one of the more insightful things I’d been exposed to with regard to this part of the world. I imagined Anna Maria Tremonti asking Darren about his conversation with Mike the soldier on the plane, or asking for stories from Darren’s experience with the humanity of these people. I figured it would have fit into The Current’s mandate as I understood it: to educate, to inform, to bring us perspective. Darren’s work deserved this national audience. There was a bit of a followup from someone who was going to forward the info to a producer but in the end nothing came of it. Meanwhile, due to the unreliableness of the CBC’s internet stream, and what I see as too much focus on Canada’s military presence in Afghanistan, I’ve avoided listening to The Current at work for the past couple of months, preferring instead France Culture or the BBC. I did catch the broadcast the other day of their self-flagellation on under and mis-reporting the story of Global Warming. Anna Maria was somewhat bothered by a statement of one of the scientists: ‘never underestimate the illiteracy of reporters’.
The following morning, (that of March 9th) the CBC included in its news roundup the visit by Canada’s Governor General to the troops in Afghanistan, and there was something said about ‘putting a human face’ on the story (mov and realmedia). What’s unfortunate is that Michaëlle Jean, who in the past has seemed an intelligent, well informed woman, was responsible for the stupidest statements in the report. ‘There’s no future without women …’. No shit. But perhaps the real fault lies with the editors of the video, or the fact that she used to be a reporter.
The evening before I’d been to Darren’s show to see the Pakistan video, the talk of putting a human face struck me as more this meaningless political rhetoric. Why are all these human faces those from Canada? Where do we ever see the human faces of the people we’re supposedly helping? How is their humanity ever brought to our attention? The fact that Darren could undermine the agenda of Canada’s national broadcaster with a 20 minute video perhaps suggests just how under-served we are by photo-ops, predictable rhetoric, focus on soldiers, and all the other regular bullshit. My understanding of the situation and of the people involved has been greatly enhanced by Darren’s first-person and personal reporting and the fact that the CBC found him fit only for their hipster-oriented Definitely Not the Opera kind of suggests how little they take his work seriously … something silly for the kids right?
II. Fantastic Two | Monks in the lab
I watched/listened to this video on Friday at work, and it was fantastic. I especially liked the idea that the effect of mediation was to practice (and thus grow new neurons) paying attention to autonomic processes, which allows us to have greater awareness of our emotions and perceptions, so that we do not need to find ourselves ‘out of control’ or ’swept away’ by strong impulses. In my dream of the future, I want children to be taught meditation in kindergarten, as an essential life skill, just as much as doing your physical exercises and learning your maths.
As I’ve noted about Darren’s work, that it seems to miraculously inspire more admiration than jealousy, the work of Zin Taylor could be accused of inspiring more jealousy than admiration. Consider the facts as they appear: part of the Guelph university educated elite clique, he gets to be in show after show in prestigious galleries with work that is sometimes weak (the piece at The Power Plant in 2005 for example) and Taylor’s continual presence in the Toronto art scene PR seems to be attempting to break the record established by Derek Sullivan. Both artists appear to have been elevated to that collection of what seems like the less than ten artists who are overexposed in Toronto and who are continually asked to ‘represent’ this city of millions to others and to itself.
And so it was with ambivalence that I went down to the YYZ opening on Friday night; a chance to drink beer, be social, see some people I like to talk to and consider friends, and be ignored by those who used to say hi to me but now just think I’m an asshole or something. I wasn’t at all expecting Taylor’s video to win me over as it did, and it is now on my highly recommended list.
And yet, my appreciation for this work was based on my ignorance of its subject matter. I recall seeing years ago the call for submissions from the Yukon asking for artists to come on up and be inspired. I also recall hearing that Allyson and Zin, two artists I’d recently met through a friend, had been chosen to go. And so I knew over the past few years that Allyson and Zin had a connection to the Yukon and that they were making work about it.
With Put your eye in your mouth (which a friend suggested meant ‘digest what you see’) Zin has made a sort of fake documentary on a fake thing: Martin Kippenberger’s metro-net station in Dawson City. Now, my ignorance here was based on being familiar with Kippenberger’s name but not his work, so when watching the video, I thought Zin had seen this structure and made up an elaborate history for it, tying it to some art-star’s name in order to get in the trendy props to the masters. Turns out the Metro-Net was legit (also here), and yet this only diminishes by a bit the overall video, which is still fantastic. It is this type of elaborated imagination that I want to experience with art, and in as much that conceptual art usually goes for obscure one-liner cleverness, I hate it for its denial of the imagination. Now, considering Taylor’s background from Canada’s new conceptual It-School, I suppose I can say he’s showing that you can be both conceptual and imaginative, and the product is better for it.
IV. Fantastic Four | Kuchma’s Thrush Holmes reviews
The suspicions I had of Zin Taylor’s elaborate imagining of what could have been ‘the mine-shaft entrance’ follows on January’s suspicions that the opening of Thrush Holmes Empire was part of an elaborate joke.
There’s been talk in the scene of it being some kind of hoax, and personally I thought this was the case. I was trying to keep my mouth shut about it all, not wanting to ruin it, but now that I’ve been assured that this is not a masterpiece-parody on the art world constructed by Jade Rude and Andrew Harwood (the co-directors of the Empire space) (’they’re not that clever’ I was told), I guess I share my disappointment that this really is the work of a presumptuous and pretentious young man who makes terrible work. As I said at the opening in January, ‘if this work is a parody, it’s a masterpiece, but if it’s legit I feel sorry for the guy’. In other words, in my ignorance, I imagined a fantastic scenario in which Jade and Andrew had collaborated on making quick, easy, and lazy work to fill up wall space in time for the opening, and hired an actor to play Thrush Holmes (which plays too close to the great 90’s indie-rock band Thrush Hermit). No mother names their son Thrush, so whoever this guy is, his wallet certainly doesn’t contain ID linking him closely with Joel Plaskett’s 90s project.
(A Thrush Hermit Aside
Seeing Ian McGettigan cover The Wire’s ‘I am the Fly’ in 1999 was part of the reason I gave up watching live music once I moved to Toronto – nothing would ever top that, and I prefer to have my indie-music memories packaged around my experience in Halifax rather than have continued on with the ringing ears of today’s stuff. Even though that meant I missed out on seeing the shit like this live).
The only person who seems to be addressing this Thrush Holmes issue is Michael Kuchma.
As I mentioned in the last Goodreads, I was part of a panel discussion at Toronto’s Gallery 1313 on art criticism. I had a good time and it was well attended despite being both a Monday and the weather being less than conducive to a social gathering. (The event was recorded and will potentially be made available as a podcast, and if/when that happens I’ll send out a link). During the Q&A, I was asked a question from a fellow in the audience who later identified himself via a comment on the BlogTo blurb writen by fellow panelist Carrie Young the day after.
Michael Kuchma is trying to write some thoughtful criticism about the Toronto scene and I glad that I was able to learn about it through these circumstances. I appreciate his take not only on the Thrush Holmes stuff but also on the Toronto scene in general, and I also appreciate seeing the influence of the panel talk in his writing: I guess it was worth something in in the end.
In the second link (’why we Should…’) make note of point number 3:
Perhaps some fear that Holmes is orchestrating a brilliant art-stunt, and that passing judgment right now puts one in the vulnerable position of looking stoooopid and hasty on the day when Holmes comes clean with his Machiavellian master plan.
This is pretty much why I’ve kept quiet for this long, not wanting to ruin for everybody, and wanting to see Garry Michael Dault embarrassed for ‘falling for it’ as he had a positive review in the Globe & Mail on the day after the opening. (Why would I like to see Dault with egg on his face? Because Dault’s work as a critic is worthless – his reviews are almost always positive, unless he dares insinuate that someone has skills, at which point they are dismissed as being ‘illustrative’). A hoax or not, Kuchma’s thoughts on the whole matter are the most substantial I’ve come across and I’m glad he’s putting them out there.
Over the past three weeks I’ve been reading Hardt & Negri’s Multitude, which I learned of by way of Darren O’Donnell’s ‘darren-in-pakistan‘ blog (speciffically this posting) and I was actually inclined to read it. With regards to Empire I’ve had the same attitude that Noam Chomsky expressed about it here:
QUESTION: It seems to me, with a certain degree of difference, that the concept of a virtual senate is similar to Negri’s and Hardt’s concept of Empire. [Michael Hardt, Antonio Negri, Empire (Harvard University Press, 2000)]
CHOMSKY: Empire, yes, but I have to say I found it hard to read. I understood only parts, and what I understood seemed to me pretty well known and expressible much more simply. However, maybe I missed something important.
QUESTION: Yes, and the book arrives to the same conclusion as yours but through a more complicated, less readable way…
CHOMSKY: If people get something out of it, it’s okay. What I understand seems to be pretty simple, and this is not a criticism. I don’t see any need to say in a complicated way what you can say in an easier way. You can make things look complicated, that’s part of the game that intellectuals play; things must look complicated. You might not be conscious about that, but it’s a way of gaining prestige, power and influence.
I’ve thus carried a prejudice toward Hardt & Negri’s work over the past few years, but something in the way Darren introduced it intrigued me; further web-reaserch led me to believe it was the type of thing I should read since it elaborated on what I’ve been personally calling the politics of variety.
I can’t say I totally agree with all of it – but I was open to its analysis. Getting through the first section was difficult – I don’t feel like I’m living in a Global State of War as much as I feel I’m living in a culture of propaganda continually devoted to telling me some asshole blew up some other assholes somewhere I have no plans of visiting.
My own understanding of American Empire is largely metaphorical – I agree with the premise of Empire but my feeling is that they administrations of the Western world’s nation-states don’t know what they’re doing in that regard – they are too incompetent. In other words, while academics can diagnose and Imperial condition, the reality is that the Western governments are in denial.
The ending, focusing on the democratic project of multitude, seems to elevate multitude to the sovereignty they wish to deconstruct. It also seeks to abolish all authoritarian structures with the aim of having an anarchist state ruled by the common interest and affective (‘niceness work’ one could call it) labour of the multitude – the network of individual interests.
What seems lacking is a recognition of the capitalist market as it exists as a form of multitude already self-organizing – but I know that’s such a faux pas to even mention it. As well, there seems to be a lack of acknowledgment of the substantial work that would need to be undertaken to ‘phase in’ the current mainstream mass of corporate workers and other people who don’t read, don’t think, and have no real capacity to function as they are within such a democratic society. In other words, how does one prevent the democratic multitude from being merely an autocracy of cliques? Such cliques would be identified as knowing who Hardt & Negri even are, as opposed to the mainstream, which is more preoccupied this weekend with Brittany Spears’ new haircut.
I. But first, let’s imagine how we might be thought of in the future.
The Modern, Nodern, Oddern, Podern, and Qodern Periods
The predominance of using the prefix ‘post’ to name a period (almost always the one in which people found themselves at the time) flourished in the first decade of the 21st Century, and as one writer noted, ‘everything is posts … I need a saw to cut them down, too see the horizon’. Recognizing the Modern period as being the one which encompassed most of the 20th Century, one that was clearly defined, it followed that one should simply used the letters of the alphabet to replace the ‘post’ fashion, and hence, post-modernism was renamed the Nodern, and post-post-modernism was renamed the Oddern (although it is notable that post-post-modernism was never as popular, and many people were confused by this point not knowing exactly what time they were living in).
The first decade of the 21st Century, according to the historical records, referred to its self variously as:
‘post-nine-eleven’
‘post-national’
‘post-modern’ (or shortened to ‘pomo’)
‘post-post-modern’
‘post-industrial’
‘post-agrarian’
The Nodern Period
The Nodern was once known as the ‘post-modern’ and characterized the time between, roughly, 1975-1995. Since it saw itself as a movement that put Modernism behind it, it is perhaps explained best by looking at how it saw Modernism. As the overall paradigm of the 20th Century, Modernism defined how human beings in the West saw both themselves and their creative works. It created neat categories to enable definition, but in the language of the late 20th Century’s marketing, ‘post-modernism’ was about ‘thinking outside the box’.
It’s language emphasized the prefix ‘meta’ meaning ‘overarching’ and so, Post-Modernist/Nodernist talk refers to ‘metanarratives’. The most famous definition of what it meant to be beyond Modernism was to see ‘metanaratives’ as unbelievable.
The privileging of one story as had been the case under Modernism came into question, and the Nodern began to look into the as yet untold stories. Although, it is also necessary to point out the Western centric dominance of this vision, as the so-called untold stories were simply untold by Western thinkers to a Western audience. The Nodernist thinkers, while claiming to be on the side of the ‘non-west’ really saw themselves as deeply involved in the Western tradition that goes back to Latin Classicism.
The Nodern period was also characterized by a dominant political ideology that attempted to recast human life in simple economic terms. The politics of the time were characterized by an overall concern with ‘lowering trade barriers’ with the belief that such action would improve human life across the globe, and while misguided in the extreme, represents the first stirrings of a globalized mono-culture, one that began to develop with the increased capacity of telecommunication technology and the ease of global travel in the late 20th Century. The unbelief in One-Story (metanarrative) was fostered by the evidence that there were an extraordinary variety of stories that people could pick and choose from in order to lead richer lives.
Noism
Cultural historians often joke that the Nodern refers to ‘nothing good came out of it’. The clash between the tradition dating back to Ancient Rome in the West, and the confrontation with an global political and cultural tradition, reminiscent of empires (especially those of 19th Century Europe) caused much confusion and is one of the reasons the joke came about. It is best seen as a highly concentrated period of upheaval and transition, and it is sometimes popularly called Nomo.
This has prompted some contemporary culturalists to claim they are Noists, with the Toronto group The No-no Things being perhaps the best well known. In this way, they claim to be the fulfillment of the 20th Century avant-garde project (which the Nodern claimed to be the height of at the time) as the 20th Century Dadaists were named after the Russian term for ‘yes’ – ‘da’. Hence, answering the Dadaists nonsensical Yes Yes with their highly contrived and intellectual No No. It is notable to point out that Noism is highly esoteric and therefore culturally irrelevant within our larger Qodern context.
The Oddern and Podern Period
The six year period between 1995 and 2001 is referred to by historians who use this terminology as the Oddern period, who smirk when they say it was characteristically ‘odd’. The beginning of the end of the globalist ideology manifested itself in a rise of popular protests – first in 1997 against the Multilateral Agreement on Investment (MAI) and most famously, ‘The Battle in Seattle’ in 1999, which was followed by popular protests throughout 2000, culminating in April 2001 in Quebec City. Protests were planned for events that autumn, but the terrorists attacks of 11 September suddenly altered the political dialogue and ended the care-free callousness that had been popular in the developed world since the end of the Cold War ten years before.
The Oddern was also seen to be odd due to the rather sudden blossoming of the internet, which transformed everyone’s lives – henceforth, email and websurfing and stories of ‘dot-com millionaires’ became ordinary, while the politics of the United States focused on the sex-life of the President culminating in an attempted impeachment.
The Podern was so called because P followed O which followed N which followed M; so wrote the historian who coined the term. But a rival school of thought argues that the Podern is specific to the autumn of 2001 when Apple Incoperated introduced the iPod, which became the defining artifact of the time. As the iPod allowed for the assembly and playback of a vast amount of files (which hadn’t been possible before, and the iPod’s storage capacity at the time was unique) it is seen to be an appropriate term for this period since its culture consisted to a large extant of reassembly and recontextualization.
People living during the Podern Period sometimes called this ‘the deejay culture’. The term deejay comes from the acronym, D.J, (disc jockey) those who remixed and assembled playlists of music at nightclubs or on radios. The term jockey goes back to horse racers, hence the sense that this was the one in control. The first radio broadcasters would play a variety of music singles (which at that time consisted of vinyl discs) and with the development of the music-movie (known as ‘music videos’) the term was modified for those who introduced them on television. They were called veejays (‘video jockeys’).
The deejay began to overtake the rockstar in the early 1990s as the appreciable peak of music performance, with the rave dance parties that began in the UK in the 1980s. By the early 90s, the rave had been imported to North America, and by 1995 it was known in the mainstream. Hence, the late 90s, while known as the Oddern, are also referred to by cultural historians at The Early Podern Period. The school which promotes the presence of the Apple iPod device as the defining characteristic of the Podern (rather than merely going with the alphabetical arangement) agrees with this assessment, noting that the iPod’s arrival in 2001 was also the first proper year of the 21st Century, and the year in which the terrorists attacks on the United States occurred, the defining political event of that era.
It was also during this time that ‘classicism’ was re-defined to encompass more that it had previously. During the 18th, 19th, and 20th Centuries, Western centric cultural observers always referred to ‘classical’ as being the culture of Ancient Greece and Rome – defined simply perhaps as ‘the architectural column’. Neo-classicism developed in the late 18th and 19th Century, and at that time referenced the fashion of imitating the culture of Ancient Greece and Rome, but neo-classicism was followed by Modernism. By the early 21st Century, Modernism had developed it’s own cannon of ‘classics’ which were then copied, referenced, and imitated in such as way that the sampling and re-assembly of this cannon by the Podernists represented a Modernist neo-classicism. Historians now speak of ‘Latin Classicism’ when referring to the culture of Ancient Greece and Rome, and even that of the European Renaissance to the 19th Century Neo-classical period, since what these cultures all have in common (except for the original Greek) is the presence of the Latin language in the culture (either as the vernacular in the earliest, or as the language of European scholarship later on).
The Old Master Painters, who had become unfashionable during Modernism, began to be imitated by a generation of painters in the late 20th Century, and who were then called ‘New Old Masters’ and eventually, New Masters, until that died out and the term ‘Master Painter’ returned to the vocabulary as someone who excels in the craft of image making by hand.
Self-reflection in the Podern Period
The Podern is marked by the terrorist attacks on the United States of America on 11 September 2001, which sparked a flourishing of American militarism, and subsequent wars against Afghanistan during 2001-2002, Iraq in 2003, and Iran in 2007. The international dialogue shifted from one of ‘globalized trade’ (popular during the Nodern) to one of renewed nationalities and cultural identities.
Many at the time were dismayed to see the dialogue revert from that of the late 20th Century’s secular humanism to one that seemed to pit the United States’ version of fundamentalist Christianity against the Middle East’s version of fundamentalist Islam. Centering the dialogue on cultural identity seem to be nothing more than the mainstream catching up to much of the cultural elites preoccupation with what was called ‘identity politics’ during the Nodern’s 1990s, and encouraged self-reflection at all levels during the decade of 2000s.
In television, Dr. Phil was a popular therapy show, (although never had Foucault’s warnings about conformity and madness had a greater example); the show had been an offshoot of the ever-popular eponymous Oprah Winfrey show, which emphasized self-improvement through the ‘tales of personal triumph’ of common people and celebrities, with handy shopping tips thrown in for good measure and promotion. In movies (the dominant art form of the time) self-reflection is emphasized in the films written by Charlie Kaufman: Being John Malkovich (1999) is about seeing the world through some-one else’s eyes (John Malkovich was a popular actor who himself stared in the film). In Adaptation (2002), Kaufman caricatured himself by making a confused scriptwriter part of the story, inventing an identical twin brother to balance his neurotics. In Chad Schmidt (2008), the eponymous character is an actor who has a hard time finding work because he too closely resembles Brad Pitt, the most famous actor of the decade, played by Brad Pitt himself.
In theatre, Darren O’Donnell exemplified this intensive self-reflection with his play A Suicide-Site Guide to the City (2003-2006).
The Qodern Period
Some historians, uncomfortable with the easy explanation of using the alphabet to name the eras, look to the 20th Century’s use of Q to explain the Qodern. The letter Q became very popular in the second-half of the 20th Century, being used as pen-names and as the title of books; in the James Bond film series, Q was the alias of the UK’s Secret Service engineer; in the Star Trek Sagas Q was a mischievous god. The Dutch author Harry Mulisch named the main character in his 1997 novel, The Discovery of Heaven Quinten Quist, whose initials of QQ hinted at his supernatural characteristics. As Mulisch wrote:
‘His initials are Q.Q.’ ‘Qualitate qua,’ nodded Onno. ‘That is rare. The Q is the most mysterious of letters, that circle with that line,’ he said, while he formed a slightly obscene gesture a circle with the manicured thumb and index finger of one hand and the line with the index finger of the other, ‘the ovum being penetrated by a sperm. And twice at that. Very nice. My compliments.’ (p.361)
The contemporary historian Wu Zhenguo identifies the Qodern with that of the Star Trek Sagas‘ character. Noting that Q was seemingly omnipotent, omnitemporal, and omnipowerful he argues that our present society’s capacity for ‘all-awareness’ via the net is an adequate metaphor for our capacities. We may not be able to have things materialize out of thin air with a snap of the fingers, as could Q, but the idea Wu advances is that our capacities through nanotechnology and intercommunication most resembles that of our historical ideas of what only gods were capable of.
In addition, through our Representative technology, we can indeed speak with historical characters, in ways that Q flaunted and that which we were not capable of doing during the Podern.
The Qodern is a time period of psychological health, intensive communication and dialogue. The banes of existence throughout history: poverty and disease, have been eliminated for the most part: all diseases are at least treatable but no longer death sentences, and the lifespan has been extended so that one can afford a greater amount of time reading, thinking, or playing, barring the unfortunate accident of course.
The development of the Podern period began to show people how unprofitable it was to continue to dehumanize any segment of society, and how much better off everyone could be by extending benefits and encapsulating dialogue in a system of rights. While the globalist economic arguments which petered out by the Podern created for a time a sense of confusion, ultimately we look back and see how this time allowed for our new view of society as an engine for creativity and education to emerge. The view that all of us enjoy and benefit from today.
I was indecisive about going to see the Mathew Barney movie, because
I didn’t want to have to kill the time between getting off work and seeing the movie, which would have entailed
the claustrophobia of being stuck in a room, in a seat, in a sold out theatre for two hours, with hipsters
Today I bought
a new bottle of after shave balm which came with a promotional stick of lip balm
a new shaving brush
a new bottle of eye drops
I bought these things on my morning break. For my afternoon break I read
Lee Seigel’s review/historical essay on Norman Mailer’s new book
Norman Mailer and I share a birthday with Justin Timberlake. Justin Timberlake turned
26
in Montreal, where he was singing after performing in Toronto on Tuesday. Today is the third anniversary of the infamous wardrobe malfunction.
Justin Timberlake was born three years earlier than Mailer’s age if we begin to count in 1900; that is, 1981. Norman Mailer turned
84
because he was born in 1923. If you add two to four you get Justin’s 6 and if you take away six from the eight you get the 2. If you take the the two and three and from Mailer’s birth year and flip them around and you get back to the beginning, which is
The opening was fantastic. I was so glad to be there. Toronto’s been too boring for too long. It needed an injection of pompous pretension. Red carpet, open bar and delicately pretty glammed out art girls. Also, I find I’m now of an age when the songs that were hits when I was younger have come ’round again to be hipster favorites. But I’m also confused about who Thrush Holmes is, and I think that’s precisely the point. It wasn’t about the art, it was about the party for the art.
What begins loose falls into patterns
Because people are essentially lazy
So they develop patterns/rituals to do the most with the least amount of energy
They develop the easy efficient ways, which become their rituals, their techniques, their patterns
What was once chaotic and haphazard has been systematized and has become a formality
Formalities continue until they are rigid, and exist on strength of memory as tradition
Which is to say, the movement of an inertia
Like the train, once it has gathered speed, will not stop quickly.
It is pushed along by the weight behind it, until it is overcome by the subtle forces of friction,.
The weight of memory pushes along a tradition, yet once the efficiency that was offered is lost,
The pattern in useless and breaks; the ritual is over, the tradition dies, the inertia has been worn out by the new force of inefficiency, its friction.
A new looseness comes about and the cycle begins again.
This is in our languages, in the ways we share our thoughts,
In speech, writing and dress, in music and art and design.
The formalities of the 18th Century to that of the 19th and to that of the 20th.
The formalities break and common-ness takes over for a while, until the common becomes the new formality. Latin’s dominance gave way to the Vulgar. The pamphleteers of the 18th Century didn’t write in the scholastic language. The bloggers of the 21st Century are not writing in the formal way of academia and corporate press-releases.
But already, new blogger conventions are developing which will one day give way to a rebellion of the common, a new looseness to revive and remake that old order.
Goodreads.ca sort of began three years ago today. I say that because it really began in November 2003, and I worked on prepping the site for a January launch. Today marks the day I sent the first email to a small number of people. It grew from there. The domain name was only registered in March of 2004, and the server space to host it was also purchased at that time.
2004 – Goodreads is established. The pattern of theme, link and quote from the article in question is developed. The list structure develops into a blog on the web, as I wanted to offer an RSS feed and at the time it was the only way I could do it. This blog format goes against what I originally conceived would be a simple archive page. During the next eighteen months, I achieve the goal of growing the list by %1000.
2005 – Goodreads homepage is redesigned. The increasing presence online of video and audio shifts Goodreads from being primarily textual to taking advantage of the post-modernist understanding of all media being a form of text which is ‘read’, that is, interpreted. (Goodreads could be renamed Goodinterpretations).
2006 – Goodreads is a mixture of the ‘traditional’ link structure and the super-duper compilation. The focus begins to shift from ‘making people aware’ to documenting my interpretation and mindfulness of the web. Goodreads begins to incorporate YouTube and Google Video compilation pages.
‘When the individual has reached a hundred years of age, he is able to do without love and friendship. Illness and inadvertent death are not things to be feared. He practices one of the arts, or philosophy or mathematics, or plays a game of one-handed chess. When he wishes, he kills himself. When a man is the master of his own life, he is also the master of his death.’
‘Is that a quotation?’ I asked.
‘Of course. There is nothing but quotations left for us. Our language is a system of quotations’.
-Jorge Luis Borges, A Weary Man’s Utopia (1975)
Somehow the world has become a mediocre comic book, as predictable as a Star Trek episode. I grew up watching Star Trek and still love it for its graphic design, but it was never embarrassed about cannibalizing from its past storylines, and eventually it got so bad that ten minutes into an episode you could anticipate the entire plot-line. But this is an effect not confined to a show like Star Trek, it is true of almost anything on television. I was surprised when I read Chapter 18 of John Ralston Saul’s Voltaire’s Bastards earlier this year in the way he blended his view of art history and it’s failure to adequately resolve itself to television, which he saw as the logical conclusion of centuries of attempts at realistic image making. Image making, he thought, is tied to our desires for rituals. And TV combines animated images with ritual plot-lines, as predictable to contemporary viewers as those reciting along with a priest as he holds up the host. As he wrote:
People are drawn to television as they are to religions by the knowledge that they will find there what they already know. Reassurance is consistency and consistency is repetition. Television – both drama and public affairs – consists largely of stylized popular mythology in which there are certain obligatory characters who must say and do certain things in a particular order. After watching the first minute of any television drama, most viewers could lay out the scenario that will follow, including the conclusion. Given the first line of banter in most scenes, a regular viewer could probably rhyme off the next three or four lines. Nothing can be more formal, stylized and dogmatic than a third-rate situation comedy or a television news report on famine in Africa. There is more flexibility in a Catholic mass or in classic Chinese opera.
He went on to say, and I think this is a kicker given how it was probably written in the 1980s:
The rise of CNN (Cable News Network) canonizes the television view of reality as concrete, action-packed visuals. Wars make good television, providing the action is accessible and prolonged. The Middle East, for example, is an ideal setting for television war. Cameras can be permanently on the spot, and a fixed scenario of weekly car bombs, riots and shelling ensures that the television structure will have ongoing material.
(It makes Steven Colbert’s joke about this past summer’s Israel-Lebanese war more than just a joke but a perfectly conscious reflection of the reality of the situation). In addition, the violence on television reflects a long Western tradition in depicting violence, seen in graphic mediaeval crucifixions and the tortured damned we are familiar with from those seemingly unenlightened times.
But from the enlightened times we got Goya’s image, the sleep of reason producing monsters. As Mark Kingwell points out in his essay ‘Critical Theory and Its Discontents’ the image’s caption can be read two ways, as either ‘the sleep of reason produces monsters’ or ‘the dream of reason produces monsters’.1 John Ralston Saul, with Voltaire’s Bastards took the later interpretation for his thesis. But the experience of this decade is one of the first reading: the thoughtlessness of the times producing predictable nightmares.
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Everything has gotten so insane that peace and quiet and non-interaction certainly has a lot more appeal. No need to answer the same old questions about how I am, which are rhetorical and meaningless, no need to tell the same boring stories about myself or the state of my life, no need to feel the peer pressure of conforming to someone else’s idea of who I am, who I should be, or how I should be. It is better in this decade to withdraw and watch operas on DVD (Wagner’s The Ring), or famous TV shows (Battlestar Gallactica is like such a masterpiece); and to avoid browsing websites too much because it just seems to add to the sense that everything has gone to bullshit, as MacLeans seems to think as well. So I missed the whole beauty video thing until the day before I saw it on the front page of the Toronto Star, and as I’ve been adjusting over the past month to a 6.30am wake up time to become a ‘corporate minion of patriarchy’ (my Halloween costume) I’m not so eager to go a’gathering for goodreads. I’ve been warning you all for months now that this project isn’t what it used to be, and that will continue to be true in the future. This list began small enough that I knew my audience – drank and laughed with some of you in the past – but now has become anonymous and my motivations for doing it continue to be some sick sense of responsibility to do my part to inform whoever might come a’googlin. I should be much more selfish and egotistical to fit in properly I know. But my work on the web in the past has come from a desire to document, and at this time I would like to use this list to promote and to document for whatever that’s worth.
Death of a President was released in North America on Friday, and it probably won’t be in theatres for long. Not that it matters, because it will attain a deserved cult-status on DVD or streamed from wherever. First of all, having never seen George W. Bush in person he has always been nothing but an animated image to me. Real through portrayal and the delusion of the animated image, and so fitting, I think, to see that image manipulated into another version of a potential reality borrowed from many months from now. The skill of the digital effects became apparent very quickly; ten minutes into it I recognized it as a masterpiece, a shockingly effective use of Photoshop-like tech, and a devastating commentary on current global-american-centric-politics. I mean, what other President of the United States has inspired a fictional yet realistic depiction of his assassination while still in office to the extant that the film is presented as an historical documentary on the subject?This blending of time – watching images from a future, depicting an event from a year from now, presented as some bleeding-heart leftist documentary typically shown on CBC Newsworld on Sunday nights, twists itself into the cold water blast of just how stupid everything has gotten (given how the movie is built out of the current media clichés, from the dialogue right up the structure) but also how we’re caught up in a television dream dictating reality to us. The film hits all the right points, with an eerie accuracy, from the deluded missus posing as Bush’s speechwriter saying how he was somehow connected to God, to the political backdrop of North Korea and Iran. The speeches have been written and the players have taken to the stage and Shakespeare’s famous line has never seemed more true.
And for that reason, for the sheer fictionalization of our reality, this moment in later history which seems real because it is on TV, real through portrayal, this film will also be must-see viewing for Presidential historians, both present and future. I am compelled to write about it now, to time-stamp this text with the current date, so that there is evidence to future researchers that this movie came out a year before the October 2007 events that it depicts. I would like to think that this movie will still be watched in future years, long after the Bush administration; as a sociological study of this decade, a study in documentary narrative, as an art film, and as an historical marker of the transformative power of Photoshop-like effects. I got a glismpe watching this movie of the media-scape of the upcoming century and felt future-shock. Nuanced political discourse through fictional history, which only highlights our current confusion between memory and thought. This film is cultural evidence that we can only seem to think through the ‘hindsight is always 20/20’ trope, and that retrospective documentaries have become so prevalent in the age of the self-absorbed baby-boomer-at-the-controls-of-everything (and hence a narcissistic mediascape on their politics, youth, and classic album collections) that it’s only fitting to examine a presidency’s attack on civil liberties through the genre.
The CBS Sunday Morning program had a piece on Oct 29 on the beauty video and Photoshop – explaining what young creative people take for granted to the old foggies who watch that sentimental sunday morning sunshine stuff. And the key is what young people are taking for granted versus what the old foggies running the show have in their minds about our future. An older person close to me the other day posited that I might live long enough to see one of Toronto’s main traffic arteries – the Don Valley Parkway – turned into a double-decker highway. As if allowing for more greenhouse gas emitting machines would be an adequate solution to our traffic problems, a vision completely oblivious to environmental concerns. I countered I’d much rather see a better public transit infrastructure built. But of course, I understand where this idea comes from. It’s classic ‘cars are a great and my identity as a man is tied to the sense of freedom they bring me and the teenage sense of fuck you I never got over’. It’s the same mid-twentieth century mentality that you get from politicians when they promote the need for more people to study math and science, because not only is there a space race and we have to prove that consumerist democracy rocks, but because we need all those future engineers to retro-fit these highways into double-decker monstrosities. Ah these old people: it’s enough to wish them all dead, or at least look forward to the future when they’ve left the scene and we can build the world into something more fair and beautiful. They all gave up after Bobby was assassinated, and you can watch all about it on November 23rd. What a contrast. We’re in a situation when eloquent and visionary politicians are now part of a dreamy past, while our present is made up of inarticulate war-mongering folks notable for their lack of vision. That doesn’t seem to me a sign of a healthy state of affairs.
Wishing a certain old-foggie dead is precisely what director Gabriel Range has tapped into. I saw it at a 3:50 matinee with four other people. That is to say, I went alone and there were only three other people in the audience. I’m not sure if that’s worthy of mention – seeing late afternoon matinees on Sunday afternoons isn’t popular enough to be stereotypical. But it also contributed to the feeling that I was watching a secret masterpiece living up to art’s typical response from consumerist culture. They were told to not watch it by the media who readily quoted the likes of Hillary Clinton who thought it was ‘despicable‘. It fits into the thoughts I’ve had lately about Hitler’s famous degenerate art show: Hitler, as John Carey pointed out in his 2005 book What Good are the Arts? was being populist with that exhibit, selling the public their own prejudices toward modern art. But there is a theory about how art is a psychological reflection of the zeitgeist, capturing the spirit of the age, and it seems to be ironic that Hitler, in promoting this to mock it, provided an historical marker for modernist art and highlighted the degeneracy of the society which legitimately elected him in 1933. It was degenerate art made within a degenerate society and Hitler unwittingly held up a mirror thinking it a spotlight. Whenever politicians start making pronouncements on cultural products, one has to think something significant is going on which will need explaining to future generations: that it is an art historical moment.
We’re supposed to all know the game. It’s what makes a film like Death of President possible: string together all the tv documentary clichés for an audience made sophisticated enough by an ambient televised environment to not be confused by the fiction. But of course I say that as someone who saw it with four other people, a film which as far as box-office measures go, did not exist, and as someone with the capacity to reflect on what I saw. As I walked out of the theatre I heard the terrified screams coming from the next theatre-room, looking back I saw the poster for Saw III. Of course Geogre Bush is President in a time when watching violence is what enough people want to do to make it the top film this weekend. You might point out a horror movie is appropriate for Halloween, but Halloween is only appropriate for children. The popularity of violence in whatever manner just highlights our collective immaturity and our inability to grow beyond a mediaeval past, as Bush’s recent moves toward the elimination of habeas corpus show.
JRS wrote: ‘This perpetual motion machine works effortlessly if the flood of images illustrates situations the viewer already understands. That is one of the explanations for the system’s concentration on two or three wars when there are forty or so going on around the world. The others are eliminated because they are less accessible on a long-term basis. Or because the action is less predictable and regular. Or because the issue involved does not fit easily into the West’s over-explained, childlike scenarios of Left versus Right or black versus white. Or because the need for endless images makes television structures unwilling to undertake the endless verbal explanations and nonvisual updates which would be required for the other thirty-seven wars to be regularly presented.’ This was first published in 1992. In the time between now and then, nothing has changed. While the audience have grown more sophisticated, so has television’s methods at keeping the conversation simple. But for me, there is another question, and that is, why? Why is any of this important? Ritual? That alone seems too simple an explanation. I watch TV for the illusion of company and for the occasional good, or big idea.
What is television for? Some will say it’s merely to get us to buy things, but others will say it is to inform. But are we being informed or frustrated? Isn’t anything political on television simply a way of frustrating a democratic citizenship into feelings of impotence when faced with such inane political figures? And isn’t it this sense of frustration precisely what leads to the events depicted in Death of a President? That’s not something you’d get with an uninformed populace, nor perhaps one you’d get if the political machinery actually could register the democratic will of the population. We remain dictated to, told what to think about movies by Hillary Clinton or whatever expert they got hold of at the local university.
I first read Borges’ story, A Weary Man’s Utopia in the winter of 2001 following you know what, when the shit had hit the fan and all the flags were flying. It is the story of a man’s afternoon visit with a fellow in a far distant future. He tells the the fellow
‘In that strange yesterday from which I have come,’ I replied, ‘there prevailed the superstition that between one evening and the next morning, events occur that it would be shameful to have no knowledge of. The planet was peopled by spectral collectives – Canada, Brazil, the Swiss Congo, the Common Market. Almost no one knew the prior history of those Platonic entities, yet everyone was informed of the most trivial details of the latest conference of pedagogues or the imminent breaking off relations between one of these entities and another and the messages that their presidents sent back and forth – composed by a secretary to the secretary, and in the prudent vagueness that the form requires. All this was no sooner read than forgotten, for within a few hours it would be blotted out by new trivialities. Of all functions, that of the politician was without doubt the most public. An ambassador or a minister was a sort of cripple who had to be transported in long, noisy vehicles surrounded by motorcyclists and grenadiers and stalked by eager photographers. One would have thought their feet had been cut off, my mother used to say. Images and the printed word were more real than things. People believed only want they could read on the printed page. The principle, means and end of our singular conception of the world was esse est percipi – “to be is to be portrayed”. In the past I lived in, people were credulous.
I would like to think that in the years since it was published in 1975, people have become less credulous. But the forms of these popular delusions have only aggregated more nuance, so that things are not only read, but heard and seen, and people believe what they read on screens. Or at least the old foggies who are freaked out by Wikipedia seem to think so, severely underestimating the capacities of people to understand the collective nature of the site.
As for politicians being cripples: I recently saw a motorcade come up University Avenue in Toronto and turn onto Queen St – first the chorus of motorbike cops, lead by someone who parked in the center of the intersection, leaping off to perform his ritual in the same manner a parodist would: exaggerated self importance as he held the traffic back, like a romantic hero confronting a tide, and along came the parade of black cars with their two-wheeler escorts. Who was this asshole? I thought. Some celebrity? I still don’t know, although I later heard the Prime Minister was in town. Perhaps it was him. But it seems to me that to parade around in black cars with tinted windows reveals a foolish paranoia: they all think they’re important enough to be assassinated and so hide from us as if we’re all crazy, showing a contempt for the citizenry which is unfair. Leaders shouldn’t hide from us and treat us as if we’re dangerous. But ironically that’s precisely the type of behaviour that leads to the protests they need to be protected from. – Timothy
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1. The essay is found in the book Practical Judgments pages 171-181 and the quote is itself a quote from one of the books he’s reviewing; the orginal thought is attributed to the introduction by David Couzens Hoy and Thomas McCarthy in their 1994 book, Critical Theory.
The Facts & Arguments section of last Thursday’s (Sept 7th) Globe & Mail brought this article by Geoffrey Lean to my attention, where it is noted that ‘food supplies are shrinking alarmingly around the globe, plunging the world into its greatest crisis for more than 30 years. New figures show that this year’s harvest will fail to produce enough to feed everyone on Earth, for the sixth time in the past seven years. Humanity has so far managed by eating its way through stockpiles built up in better times – but these have now fallen below the danger level’.
Earlier in the week I picked up Thomas Homer-Dixon’s The Ingenuity Gap at a used bookstore. This particular copy seems to have been someone else’s review-copy, since I found tucked inside the cover the photocopied blurb for his upcoming title The Upside of Down; Catastrophe, Creativity, and the Renewal of Civilization (to be published October 31st). The blurb offers as a teaser the Prologue, which sets the stage with a reminder of Ancient Rome, which grew too complex and fell because its citizens couldn’t maintain its late stages. Homer-Dixon writes, ‘In this book we’ll discover that our circumstances today are like Rome’s in key ways. Our societies are becoming steadily more complex and often more rigid…Eventually, as occurred in Rome, the stresses will become too extreme, and our societies too inflexible to respond, and some kind of economic or political breakdown is likely to occur. I’m not alone in this view. These days, lots of people have the intuition that the world is going haywire and an extraordinary crisis is coming’.
We are indeed lucky to be thus living in such a time, before the extraordinary crisis. Because it seems to me that when we find ourselves there – maybe in another ten years or so? – won’t we look back with nostalgia to the simpler time of this decade, and pine for the days when old Papa Bush was on TV everynight, making us laugh with his goofy phrasings, and miss the simple-minded certainty offered by the idea that Muslim fanatics want to kill us?
Which is to say that only in a society which has enough food, whose cities aren’t being destroyed by storms, whose children are well-sheltered and well-fed, can we afford the time and resources to let our politicians play boys-with-toys war games. We truly must be living in a utopia, to have the luxury to use our time and money so productively in being afraid of one another.
Because we don’t have an extraordinary crisis to unite us and to force us to work together. Our cities are not being destroyed by storms. There isn’t a plague ravaging continents. We aren’t living with a lead-pipe infrastructure based on an finite resource that we are squandering. There is no asteroid headed our way to force Bruce Willis and Steve Buscemi to become astronauts, nor are there aliens coming to blow up the White House and force President Bush to brush up on his fighter-pilot skills, last used protecting Texan airspace during the Vietnam War (if we don’t count the air-craft carrier thing from a few years back). At the end of the day we can sit back and watch the war-show and the comedic commentaries and look forward to going back to our soul-nurturing jobs in the morning and think, today was a good day. Because the extraordinary crisis is coming, but not already here. We have the luxury of war and terrorism in this decade, and we’d better enjoy it while it lasts.
Meanwhile, commentators like Homer-Dixon, Ronald Wright, and Jared Diamond warn us that things are shaky. This civilization may not survive the 21st Century. Homer-Dixon, in his prologue, writes, ‘Rome’s story reveals that civilizations, including our own, can change catastrophically. It also suggest the dark possibility that the human project is so evanescent that it’s essentially meaningless. Most sensible adults avoid such thoughts. Instead, we invest enormous energy in our families, friends, jobs, and day-to-day activities. And we yearn to leave some enduring evidence of our brief moment on Earth, some lasting sign of our individual or collective being. So we construct a building, perhaps, or found a company, write a book, or raise a family. We seldom acknowledge this deep desire for meaning and longevity, but it’s surely one source of our endless fascination with Rome’s fall: if we could just understand Rome’s fatal weakness, maybe our societies could avoid a similar fate and preserve their accomplishments for eternity.”
Let us then consider this American-centric civilization’s accomplishments: paranoid parents who think their fat video-game playing moronic children will be raped by pudgy balding men. Paris Hilton and Tom Cruise. The American news-media. Cellophane packaged food. Chemicals with unpronounceable names. Industrialized slaughter houses for our domesticated animals, one of which (the cow) now has to be treated as potential toxic waste. Oprah Winfrey’s book club, to industrialize fiction consumption. A tourism industry. An art industry. Designers working away designing the knobs for the ends of curtain rods. Marketing agencies. Billboards. Short films conceptually contrived to promote things.
I’m just playing the USA=Western Civilization game, since, that’s the PR, the marketing, the televised ads, and the billboards have told me my whole life. England would seem to be the Mini-me side-kick, while Canada is USA’s nerdy brother, perhaps austistic, perhaps a good reader. Canada has an inferiority complex and isn’t as glamourous as the more famous brother. Canada is Napoleon Dynamite’s brother chatting up hot babes on the internet. Canada is Western Civilization’s art movie compared to the USA’s Schawrzenegger action flick.
It seems like France, Russia, Poland, Italy – they’re civilizations unto themselves and are thus somewhat divorced from the Anglo-American Empire’s sphere of influence. I’m not sure where Australia fits in since they’re more Anglo than American. Nevertheless, the United States has over 700 military bases in 130 countries in the world. Whatever we think we’re doing when we call ourselves democracies, and whatever we think of our political situation, that reality alone makes the USA Rome. And while Rome left a legacy which can still inspire sixteen hundred years after the fact, a legacy of art, architecture and law, the American Empire’s legacy so far seems to be highways and chemically processed stuff, its art made largely without archival concerns, its documents increasingly becoming subject to digital fragility.
Rome’s reputation for wickedness – brilliantly captured in I Claudius – is usually taught to us via Christian exegesis with gladiatorial reference but I think USA is well on her way to matching Rome’s record given that in July, the Internet Watch Foundation (a UK ‘child porn hotline’ site, which prefers to refer to such images as simply ‘child abuse’) reported that servers in the United States host 50% of the world’s ‘child abuse content’ while the wild-west of Russia (where your last phishing attempt may have come from) is only responsible for 15%. If we take as a measure how we treat our children as a sign of civilization, one has a rather perverse way of judging the winner of the Cold War. This rather abysmal accomplishment of American/Western Civilization – the sexualization of children (I can’t even watch anything on Jon Benet Ramsay, nevermind August’s weirdo) is something I can’t even be sarcastic about here and want to triumph as another grand accomplishment of our globalized society worth preserving.
Homer-Dixon’s thoughts can be answered: yes our society is haywire, and yes, this can only lead to a greater crisis down the road. But if we agree that current living conditions are inhumane and not worth preserving, what then is the better way? It is a moral question – that is, it calls us to envision and articulate a vision of a good life which is currently being articulated for us by Hollywood and advertising. We are not choosing to live lives with meaning or with purpose. We are choosing to fit ourselves into someone else’s image of the world, striving to buy stuff we don’t need and tempted to envy by by Robin Leach’s fucking voiceovers. This decade’s terrorist nonsense is nothing more than another example of the resources squandered by the rich and famous. Because, once again, it’s not like we don’t have enough food. So, if kids screaming at their computers while others lip-sync ‘Numa Numa’; racism and intolerance; cold-heartedness; celebrity waste and stupidity isn’t this civilization’s vision of utopia, then what is?
Is our real crime, not that we have achieved these things, but that we jumped ahead and achieved them without a sustainable framework? Would we all want SUV’s if they contributed to the health of the planet? Would we all want to be obese if there were a pill that could make us Hollywood lean overnight? (Thereby making us procrastinate about taking it, saying, ‘oh, I just don’t feel like being thin today’ while we order the super-size fries). Isn’t the real horror about some of this (excluding the child-sex abomination) based on the fact that we’re indebting our children to a life more poor than our own? Because, evidently, our economy of supplying need-and-greed has made us happy to have cluttered homes and it’s obvious that this hoarding is in part due to a fuck-the-future selfishness.
Here, I’m reminded of the German historian Götz Aly, who wrote of Hitler: ‘Hitler gained overwhelming support with his policy of running up debts and explaining that it would be others that paid the price. He promised the Germans everything and asked little of them in return. The constant talk of “a people without living space”, “international standing”, “complementary economic areas” and “Jew purging” served a single purpose: to increase German prosperity without making Germans work for it themselves. This was the driving force behind his criminal politics: not the interests of industrialists and bankers such as Flick, Krupp and Abs. Economically, the Nazi state was a snowballing system of fraud. Politically, it was a monstrous bubble of speculation, inflated by the common party members”.
This is to say that our superficial wealth today, founded on the infrastructure of non-renewable oil, means poverty for our children’s children. Governments have given up passing laws – making intentional decisions – in favor of passing tax-cuts or tax-breaks, reserving attempts at law-making for such retrogressive ends as rebutting gay marriage or trying to legitimize torture. (Which implies that they can’t imagine how to control people in those ways through tax-breaks).
People have come to equate wealth with volumes of money and not with the cultural riches which make a place worth visiting and living in and treating as an heirloom. So we’ve built ugly office towers all over the world because they’re utilitarian function is to warehouse human capital for 8 or more hours a day and left to execute their inane tasks so that the minority in control of the organization can benefit from their expertise, skill and time, to play golf all day. This means that the cultural riches of our civilization, that which we hope to leave for our children to enjoy are not the maginficant cathedrals of yesteryear, but the landscaped greens of the 18-hole golf course to be found wherever there’s room to put one (even in the deserts of Saudi Arabia). But it’s not like we don’t have enough fresh water or anything.
If the sustainability issue were to be fixed in the next 25 years so that in 2031 we could indulge in guilt free celebrity watching at the Toronto Film Fest, would we still be miserable when superficially nothing had changed? Would we then be happy with a civilization of kiddie-porn perverts, fat and stupid kids, congested highways, fear-mongering news-media, thoughtless politicians?
If this consumerist utopia would not be acceptable then, why is it acceptable now? Again, what kind of world would we like to live in? What kind of life would we like to live? Because, with reference to Homer Dixon’s ‘extraordinary crisis’ those will be the questions that will need answering. And if we can’t answer it now, when we have all time time in the world, how much more difficult will it be to answer when our cities have begun to be destroyed by storms?
Adam Curtis
It may help if we were familiar with how we got here. An excellent summary can be found in the films of Adam Curtis.
I first came across the documentaries of Adam Curtis when The Power of Nightmares was broadcast on CBC Newsworld in the spring of 2005. I soon found copies online and linked to them on Goodreads (issue 05w17:1). In the 18 months since, we’ve had Google Video show up where you can now find the Nightmares series in better quality than what was then available and where you can also find his 2002 documentary The Century of the Self.
The Century of the Self is as remarkable as Nightmares in that it traces the influence of Sigmund Freud over the course of 20th Century Western soceity through, not only his theories, but his family. I was very surprised to learn that Freud’s nephew Edmund Bernays was the fellow who invented ‘public relations’ as an alternative form of propaganda, and who is thus responsible for the past century’s advertising industry. Basically, the story told in Century of the Self is how the marketing and advertising industry grew up around the idea that we were motivated by unconscious desires which could only be placated through products. We were turned into consumers by an application of Freud’s psychoanalysis; to such and extant that by the end of the century governments were treating us as customers and politcians saw themselves as managers in the retail sector of public services. Not only that, but the whole ‘selfish-baby-boomer’ / lifestyle politics / yuppie-thing’ of the 1980s has its roots in this combination of psychology and marketing.
(It should be noted that this documentary dates from 2002, the same year when John Ralston Saul mocked this point of view in a presentation for his then recently released book On Equilibrium recorded in Toronto and later broadcast on CBC’s Ideas. I raise this to suggest that in the years since things have changed so that this type of talk can now seem a little old-fashioned (as is Saul’s thesis in his most recent book, The Collaspe of Globalism). Instead of being treated as customers with regard to public services, we now have to deal with two-bit explanations of the world’s pseudo-problems caused by conservative men trying to fit everything into their god-box).
Curtis’s narratives, while profound, are also weak in the sense that they are too simplistic: the reality of our Western society since 1950 is a complex weave and while we can analyze a thread here and there, a larger pattern is meanwhile being expressed. The plot of the 20th century as presented in Century of the Self was that people were understood to be irrational and so it was thought democracy could never work; they were thus lulled into docility by bought dreams of happiness; dreams woven by Public Relations people.
Of course, business was complicit in this conspiracy, because they’d always feared a time when industrial supply would overwhelm demand and thus lead to a failure to sell. Lifestyle marketing eliminated that worry and in the process created Individualism. (John Ralston Saul’s brilliant analysis of Individualism is to be found as Chapter 19 of Voltaire’s Bastards). Politicians, in turn, used focus-group techniques to get themselves elected and then cater to the self-interested civilians/subjects-of-lifestyle-marketing (Individuals) with the added benefit that a docile population is democratically ineffective allowing those in charge to do whatever they want.
The population of the United States in 1790 was a little less than 4 million. That of the UK at the time was a little over 16 million. And so a Continental Congress from a population of less than the Greater Toronto Area declared independence from the Parliament representing half of the current Canadian population. These numbers, in today’s context, make history seem like the story of people who had nothing else better to do. And it shows just how docile our world is given our enormous numbers. We live within a remarkable feet of social-structuring brought about by educational conditioning.
This describes what John Ralston Saul constantly refers to as a corporatist society, which is fragmented into interest-groups; where the population is obedient and docile and feels incompetent beyond their area of expertise. Democracy has become a sham because we’ve given up control over our lives so that it can be scheduled by our bosses. But if we believe life is about ‘expressing our selves’ then we can buy a fast-food version: our identities come through products which saves time thinking about anything and we can thus focus on getting our jobs done in our machine-world. We live in a time were we routinely refer to people as ‘human capital’ and expect them to behave as smoothly in a role as any other machined, interchangeable part. This basic everyday dehumanization has stripped us of a sense of dignity which leads to weak backs and slumped shoulders and thus a new market for Dr. Ho’s pillows.
Curtis’s Wikipedia page states that he is working on a new series to air later this year, called Cold Cold Heart about the ‘the death of altruism and the collapse of trust – trust in politicians, trust in institutions and trust in ourselves, both in our minds and our bodies.’ I am looking forward to seeing this, since it is this quality of distrust, mean-spirtedness, and lack of trust in our selves by which I’ll forever remember this decade with the same amount of disgust I’ve so far had only for the 1980s. This series would seem to be an extension of Part 4 of Self because it was in this episode that Curtis traced the development of consumerist politics, and showed an excerpt for Mario Cuomo’s 1984 Democratic convention speech, followed by an interview conducted for the series where Cuomo says, (at about the 20 minute mark) ‘The worst thing Ronald Reagan did was to make the denial of compassion respectable’.
It is this quality of distrust and hard-heartedness that I’d like to better understand because our current society is nothing more than the expression of our own dehumanized inhumanity. But I’m not so caught up in Western-centrism to think there’s no alternative. The history of many civilizations teaches us that things have gotten really bad many times; each time the horrors pass and something simpler comes in its place. This is the thesis of Homer Dixon’s upcoming book. His point will be that we can control our future. We shouldn’t get caught up in dooming-and-glooming the present which doesn’t deserve to survive. I think we should instead begin brainstorming about what kind of society we’d like to live in, and then try to make it happen somehow.
The current Canadian population is about 32 million. In January, Apple Computers announced it had sold 42 million iPods around the world. This means that Apple’s infrastructure – to handle the registration requirements – is greater than that needed by the 1st world nation of Canada. It would seem to follow that if 32 million people can give themselves health-care, so could the 43 million uninsured Americans. Of course, this isn’t likely to happen, precisely due to the fractured nature of the common good brought about by the rise of Individualism.
While Individualism can be seen as having broken society, I’d like to think this is only temporary. The Individual rose up in a century dominated by dictatorships – not only political, but also cultural. The greatest art form of the 20th Century is undoubtedly the movie, which consists of a passive audience watching someone’s else’s artistic vision. At a basic level it is a dictatorial relationship. The Individual is now driving a cultural paradigm shift that makes the iPod the primary symbol of current cultural relationships – people want control over their cultural products, which is vastly different than the passive acceptance of media which existed throughout the 20th Century. The internet has empowered people away from the illusion of community and participation brought about through consumerism, and begun instead to interconnect them with other like minded people which can only in turn build bridges to new communities. Individualism now operates in such a way that someone like myself can watch these Curtis videos and feel educated and enlightened and informed, not only because MSM had originally served it to me through a scheduled broadcast, but because I downloaded it from a website, as can you. – Timothy
Today, the Canadian death toll in Afghanistan went up by four. I haven’t been keeping count so I don’t know what the total is. What I do know is that this headline pops up every second week or so and is part of the larger pattern of patriarchal conservative governments in power (who keep falling inline to the Bush Administration’s patriarchal and dim-witted view of the world). When the Liberals were in power, the Canadians were only being killed by American ‘friendly-fire’. But since the Harper government came to power we’ve seen the Canadians take on more responsibility and become the prime-movers in keeping Afghanistan from falling back to Taliban control. This decade is full of war news because conservative men are running things – be they conservative Islamic men who think the whole world should be Muslim; or conservative Western men who try to tie all this crap to ideas about the glory of war, and ‘right wars’ against ‘evil’ people.Personally, I think the Taliban are shits so I don’t mind the Canadian mission. I am not taking Jack Layton’s recent suggestion to withdraw and negotiate for peace with Taiban seriously. I am a little annoyed with the fact that the awfulness of the Taliban is being obscured in favour of Canadian navel-gazing ( a selfishness which makes headlines of soldiers deaths with no real analysis of what they’re doing in the first place). To say that we’re stooges for half-assed American imperial ambitions is too simple. To say that Canadian soldiers are occasionally being killed because we have a Conservative government in office is also simplistic but somewhat accurate. But I don’t think as a nation we’re all together too simple-minded to agree that keeping the Taliban from returning to power is a worthy thing.
In the months before September 11 2001 (five years ago in the past) the Taliban’s control over Afghanistan was beginning to make headlines in North America. This is the group that executed women on soccer fields, made it illegal to not have a beard, and blew up ancient Buddhist statues as representations of idol worship. It is not an exaggeration to call such behaviors barbaric. Meanwhile, the American government was overlooking such (dare I call them atrocities?) policies because Taliban barbarity was keeping poppies from being grown, and as a reward for their part in the glorious War on Drugs, were receiving significant funding and support. (Ok, maybe not ‘significant’ funding – I’m fuzzy on the details, but I’m working with what was being said five years ago).
All this changed that Tuesday in September. By the late afternoon of the 11th, there was a statement by the leader of the Taliban making the broadcast rounds saying they had nothing to do with the day’s events. Which of course was untrue, as they’d sheltered Bin Laden (who at first too denied responsibility). When the United States attacked the Taliban in October, the reasons were clear and understandable. Overthrowing a barbaric regime was a good thing to do. Chasing after Bin Laden was justified. Men, ‘liberated’ (how that word has been cheapened since) were able to go the barber’s and get a shave for the first time in years.
(I occasionally grow beards and last did so this summer. I shaved it off three weeks ago and this example will always make me thankful that I at least have the option, unlike the men living under the Taliban regime).
Circa 2003 the Americans had destroyed the Taliban. There were accusations of massacres, (which for war is unfortunately normal). There was the fact that they shipped off a lot of these captured men to Gitmo and that some of them were innocent and that some of them were children; all of which will hopefully get sorted out and corrected one day. The Taliban was gone and the civilians of Afghanistan could begin to rebuild civilization under the security provided by outside forces.
Three years later, the Americans have abandoned Afghanistan to the Canadians to devote themselves to securing the Iraqi oil infrastructure so that more obese Americans can scoot around in SUVs using relatively cheap gasoline. (Because ‘America is addicted to oil’ – President George W. Bush, State of the Union Address, 2006). Osama Bin Laden, on the run in Afghanistan, was able to get away because the Bush family had unfinished business with Saddam Hussein. This has meant that the Taliban have been able to rebuild their forces and are trying to return to power, killing Canadians in the process. But, unlike Jack Layton (proving why the NDP are largely irrelevant) I don’t think we should negotiate for peace with them and bring the soldiers home so that we’ll have more on hand for the next Toronto snow storm. Let them do their jobs helping to secure a landscape that hasn’t been at peace in decades. One day they’ll be able to return, but hopefully that will be long after the Taliban have ceaased to be relevant.
If The One had been solely a CBC production, one suspects that would have charged ahead to do what they could to promote the career of George Stroumboulopoulos, but thankfully sense kicked in at ABC and it has been cancelled. When I read this welcome news in last week’s paper, I noticed that it ended on the usual, ‘CBC is searching for a vision in the age of the internet’. To find this vision, it would help if CBC had a sense of its history, and a sense of traveling around the country without satellite hookups for broadband reporting.The idea behind The One it was reported, was to raise Stroumboulopoulos’ profile so that cable-less rubes would not be shocked when The Hour debuts on the main network in the fall, following The National. Why this type of thing is required, I don’t know. I do know that The Hour is already unwatchable due to it’s too cool for school attitude. I don’t need to know anything happening in the world badly enough to have it portioned out in bullet point cool to learn about it. I do know that CBC used to have great shows that treated young people as intelligent (Big Life, CounterSpin) but undoubtedly these were repeatedly cancelled due to low ratings. Why the CBC needs to chase ratings is a good question.
1. A Public Broadcaster
The public should demand greater funding for the CBC so that it doesn’t have to chase ratings and so that it can feel free to broadcast esoteric programing of limited appeal. This itself is a very old idea, so why are we still talking about it? Why hasn’t this happened yet?
But given enough resources, to match the ideal the CBC needs to recognize that there are 24 hours in a day and this is the time of VCRs and TIVO. There should be plenty of room on the schedule for all sorts of weird stuff that broaden our perspective and who cares if some it will be on at 4am? Young people know how to set VCRs. Something as wild as the gay-fisting show might have a place on the channel. It would be offensive to some (hell, to many), but shouldn’t public broadcasting aim to smooth out our preconceived notions by helping us become well-rounded? Shouldn’t contemporary sophisticated people at least understand what such a thing as gay-fisting is, even if it’s not their cup of tea? There should be no room for ‘I don’t know’ in today’s world. CBC, help us broaden our minds, not limit them by giving us what we think we want!
2. From Coast to Coast
The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation was developed to provide a coast to coast radio network in the 1930s, when this was a new technology whose benefit and advantage was obvious. But what kind of broadcasting is of interest to 20 year olds? Wi-Fi. CBC used to have a station of antennae and powerful broadcast equipment in New Brunswick which put out the network’s short-range radio signal. This station was shut down during the 1990s after the internet made it obsolete. If they thought that was worthy of investment why not Wi Fi as well? Take a laptop or a Blackberry to the rural corners of the country and you’ll be lucky to find a signal. My recent experience traveling through the East Coast on summer holiday brought this to mind – I did find signals but they were weak and didn’t really work that well. But it seems to me that if the people from the 1930s were still around, they’d be arguing for a network of wi-fi towers that stretch from sea to sea. This would also have the benefit of bringing broadband internet access to the rural communities along the US border and further an international image of being considerate.
What we are seeing, in Toronto at any rate, is the Ontario Power Commission taking up this challenge. The electric company. Ok, fine. Let’s not be limited to the idea that the official broadcasting corporation should be limited to only broadcasting, or that the power company should be limited to supplying electricity. In Toronto’s case, the wi-fi connectivity is coming as a side-effect of the new power meters, which will broadcast their information using this network. So this is an added benefit. But Toronto is not Canada, and Toronto already has the infrastructure to support widely available broadband internet access. My point is that the rest of the country does not, and the CBC is uniquely mandated to take this up if they so chose.
As it is, the CBC is stuck in the old media models, of television and radio, while treating the internet and such connectivity as an afterthought. I for one don’t understand why their radio programs, which are free to listen to when broadcast through the air, become commodities to be bought, sold, controlled afterward, so that programs like Ideas get a ‘best of’ treatment for the podcast, dolled out on a week to week basis. The CBC archive should be openly available to download. Haven’t we already paid of this content through inadequate allocation of public funds and the patience to sit through McCain food ads?
As it is, what is available on the CBC Archive webpage has been edited – selected and packaged and available only if you use Windows Player, eliminating many Mac users who probably make up the right audience for such content – cultural workers who could really use this content. This web-page was set up in 2003, reflects a corporate relationship with Microsoft which is counter to the public-good (they should be taking advantage of open-source software), and is now obsolete in light of YouTube and Google Video’s use (and thus, standardization) of Flash video, which can be played on anything.
3. Rights
It’s come up before that the CBC cannot treat its archives the way most of us would like because of the contracts signed with the performers etc, entitling them to fees for re-broadcasting, fees which the CBC cannot afford. This is an intolerable situation and something needs to be done about this.
4. Vision
In short my vision for the CBC is the following: as the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, they should invest in contemporary broadcasting of wi-fi so that internet connectivity from sea to sea is possible. As a public institution, it makes more sense for us to collectively pool our resources (through the usual proper funding allocation derived from tax revenue) so that individuals aren’t burdened with the costs of bringing satellite internet hookups to the lake-shore cottages of the country. As a public broadcaster, they should feel free to program a wide variety of material that reflects the interests and cultures of this country: enough of the white-bread mainstream hockey Shania Twain specials. Where does the CBC reflect the Indo-Canadian perspective? How does the CBC reflect the Aboriginal perspective? With 24 hours in a day, there’s room for 24 different one-hour shows, or 48 different half-hour shows. Further, with the internet, available through their coast-to-coast wi-fi network, they could have internet-only programs. The CBC should have one of the richest server farms in the country, loaded up with their digitized archives, so that fifty years of broadcast history is available to historians and curious citizens. In the Age of the Internet, there should be no excuse for ignorance and none for lack of historical perspective. Such conditions exist today because for too long information has been controlled by editorial shaping, itself not a bad thing (in light of criticisms of Wikipedia) but one where bias can’t often be easily unmasked.
The CBC of the 21st Century should reflect the interests of a well-rounded, highly learned population. George Stroumboulopoulos is in the unfortunate position of being the poster boy for the CBC’s own sense of cultural inadequacy, a sense that can only exist by treating the Canadian public as only being interested in superficiality, rather than acknowledging their appetite for things which help them grow as individuals and further an in-depth understanding of what’s happening in the world.
Finally, to end on a positive note:
5. CBC Radio 3
Is a success on all these counts. Radio show, podcast, esoteric programming, the hint that the host is familiar with such subversive things as drug use and gay erotica (that is, he need not be gay to be cool with its existence), CBC3 shows that CBC knows how to do this. It need not be constrained by limited thinking or a need to broadly appeal to hockey fans. More programing like CBC3 would help the corporation become the 21st Century institution it is destined to be.
Interestingly, one of the oldest guidelines for sales and marketing in any medium is to sell the benefits, not the features, so we shouldn’t really have to harp on this here. Sadly, the web is so smothered in vaporous content and intangible verbiage that users simply skip over it. Of course, the more bad writing you push on your users, the more you train them to disregard your message in general. Useless content doesn’t just annoy people; it’s a leading cause of lost sales. (source)
Yesterday I lived in a pre-millennial dream of the future. I spent the day going over my pictures and other files on a computer far more advanced than was available in the 1990s. I watched a video clip on YouTube and downloaded one to my hardrive. A delivery in the afternoon dropped off the municipality’s new compost bins. Unpacking this revealed numerous reading materials and a DVD to watch. I placed one of the enclosed biodegradable plastic bags in the new kitchen bin and threw away my first plum pit.
Later I went to the grocery store to get some things (like soy-based coffee cream, since this morning I used my father’s lactose free skim milk) so off I went to the grocery store, where I got the stuff ???? new coffee filters (unbleached ‘organic’), Jiff crunchy peanut butter, some canola oil, and the Silk soy-cream. The 1-8 items lane was closed so I went through the self-checkout. Punch the buttons on the screen, scan the items, swipe the card and key in your personal code. It’s as if I’m writing for a futurist design magazine in 1987 as I type this now. Then it’s home, and TV watching ???? Simon Schama’s History of Britain episode 2: ‘Conquest’ which I borrowed from the library.
Afterward, going around the channels, I came across the Frontline episode from earlier this year on the Iraqi insurgency, and so was thrust into the middle of this early 21st Century war and political reality. This was obviously re-broadcast due to the assassination of al-Zarqawi last Wednesday. After this, I found CBC’s The National that had a story on the Supreme Court hearing a case about these security certificates; this story was followed by a mournful press conference featuring the two men in England who were mistakenly arrested on suspicion that they were building a chemical weapon. Both men had shaven heads and long beards. All of this drove home the fact that our time is strangely polarized between Muslims and whatever the fuck the rest of us are.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Ottawa was Michael Ignatieff. Earlier in the day I saw him awkwardly read from a speech in the House of Commons, and with his academic background, the speech was well researched and well argued. Although, as an MP he lacked the charisma he’s shown at other podiums, where’s he’s prone to break up his points by telling us what he’s told us (‘I’ve mentioned this … and that…’). He was arguing against Bill C-10, an act to implement mandatory minimum sentences. He was answered by the Conservative MP from Peterborough, who quoted Julian Fantino’s blustering about ‘hug-a-thug’ policies, making this MP look like little more than a hot-head. His over-sized body also made an impression of being a somewhat stupid bovine. The Hansard doesn’t register the change in tone of this MP’s voice, which put quotes around ‘hug-a-thug’ and ‘paradigm’ the later as if to mock Ignatieff’s inteligence and background.
Ignatieff responded as one does when one is tired of stupidity, and went over his points, saying that the Liberal policies during the 1990s did not contribute to a ‘hug-a-thug’ mentality, but that the stats clearly show a reduction in crime overall during this period. Afterward, an MP from Quebec, a Bloc Quebecois, complimented the speech in the way that one does when one is impressed and trying to encourage someone who’s been unfairly attacked by a bully, showing sympathy and mentioning how well researched it was, directing a question to Ignatieff about it all.
I was very impressed myself and dearly hope he becomes Prime Minister ???? because here was an example of a intelligent voice ‘raising the level of debate’. The MP from Peterborough suddenly seemed so old fashioned, a symptom of the raucous, dysfunctional, and stupid Parliments that have produced little to be proud of and a lot to be bored and unimpressed by. Ignatieff bringing brains to Parliament was another way in which I felt yesterday to be living in the 21st Century.
Later in the day, the house voted on wether to send C-10 to second reading. Ignatieff and M???nard (the BQ MP) voted against it, but it nevertheless carried at 157-116.
What follows is my 2001 correspondence with W. Warren Wagar, who died in November 2004, and whose book, A Short History of the Future provided me with much food for thought during the period I was reading it. (And anyone who knows me might remember how I went on about it during 2000-2001).
———–
1.From: Timothy Comeau
To: W. Warren Wagar
Date: Apr 10 2001 – 9:40pm
Subject: A Short History of the Future questions
Dear Mister Wagar,I’m aware that you follow and contribute to the WSN forum, but since this mostly involves questions about your book, I wanted to write to you directly.
I am an artist in Toronto who first read your book, A Short History of the Future last summer and have found it both endlessly facinating and very entertaining. I am outside of the academies now, and have conducted a sort of independent study of the text in my spare time. Understandably, you can imagine that I find the passages dealing with art in the future to be of particular interest. I’m wondering if you could answer some questions I have.
SUBSTANIALISM
Lately, I have been most intrigued with the substantialist art of the Commonwealth. On the weekend it occured to me that what you describe as substantialism is a form of renewed humanism, (you do mention “integral humanism” but this seems to be more of a political thing than spiritual) a belief of man’s purpose arising from the scientific discoveries of cosmology and genetics. I am beginning to see what you describe as neorealist art celebrating the common person in terms of what occurred in the late Middle Ages, when medivael art achieved a new realism and incorporated a sense of the divine with that of the human – and which we call the Renaissance. (The Renaissance being a rebirth of ancient learning, but isn’t our own time in the midsts of a new re-birth, with our archaeological discoveries re-infusing our culture with knowledge of Lascaux and Chauvet?)
In attempting to describe what a “social realist” substantialist painting might look like to a friend, I pointed out the work of the BC artist Chris Woods (-albeit his paintings explore consumerism). Are you familiar with his work? (They can be viewed here: http://www.dianefarrisgallery.com/artist/woods/ )
ART IN 2200
In the autonomous society, where critics lament fossil art and that artists reject most of post modernism and modernism in favor of “simpler” forms: I have interpreted this to be conducive to the democratic infusion that the Commonwealth gave humanity, in line with the Preamble. Are medieval and folk art practiced because it is of the people? I have interpreted the rejection of pomo and mod based upon their consumerist and capitialist aspects, which I guess would vanish in the Catastrophe right?
As an artist, I am too often surrounded by the proverbial Philistines that I find anyone outside of the art discipline who talks about it as intelligently as you do to be a fellow conspirator – and I’m curious as to what your tastes are with regard to contemporary art, and what your background is with regard to its study. My own experience with professors in university was that they didn’t like to answer such questions, but as an historian of world politics, I am curious about how you see art intersecting the world system.
So, I’m wondering if you could elaborate a bit more on these ideas.
Finally, I just wanted to express how much I like the book. I especially like the format of incorporating letters and diary entries to flesh out the historical narrative. Eduardo Mistral Ortiz’s Diary entry is one of my favorites.
Thanks for your time,
Timothy Comeau
———–
2.From: W. Warren Wagar
To: Timothy Comeau
Date: Apr 11 2001 – 6:47pm
Re: A Short History of the Future questions
Dear Timothy Comeau,
Many thanks for your e-mail of yesterday. I’m glad that you found my book
of interest, but almost embarrassed that its few slender passages on the
arts could mean something to a working artist. By trade I am an
intellectual and cultural historian, so I know a little about a lot, but my
speculations about the arts of the future are based more on brave ignorance
than any sort of knowledge in depth. In my own personal life, the only art
form I know well is classical music, mostly of the period since 1880. My
comments follow.
At 09:40 PM 4/10/01 -0400, you wrote:
> Dear Mister Wagar, I’m aware that you follow and contribute to the
>WSN forum, but since this mostly involves questions about your book, I
>wanted to write to you directly. I am an artist in Toronto who first read
> your book, A Short History of the Future last summer and have found it
>both endlessly fascinating and very entertaining. I am outside of the
>academies now, and have conducted a sort of independent study of the text
>in my spare time. Understandably, you can imagine that I find the passages
>dealing with art in the future to be of particular interest. I’m wondering
>if you could answer some questions I have. SUBSTANIALISM a belief of
>man’s purpose arising from the scientific discoveries of cosmology and
>genetics. I am beginning to see what you describe as neorealist art
>celebrating the common person in terms of what occurred in the late Middle
>Ages, when medieval art achieved a new realism and incorporated a sense of
>the divine with that of the human – and which we call the Renaissance.
>(The Renaissance being a rebirth of ancient learning, but isn’t our own
>time in the midsts of a new re-birth, with our archaeological discoveries
>re-infusing our culture with knowledge of Lascaux and Chauvet?) In
>attempting to describe what a “social realist” substantialist painting
>might look like to a friend, I pointed out the work of the BC artist Chris
>Woods (-albeit his paintings explore consumerism). Are you familiar with
>his work? (They can be viewed here:
>http://www.dianefarrisgallery.com/artist/woods/) ART IN 2200
>practiced because it is of the people? I have interpreted the rejection of
>pomo and mod based upon their consumerist and capitialist aspects, which I
>guess would vanish in the Catastrophe right?
“Substantialism” is my version of the dialectical materialism of Marx &
Engels as revised by the French Marxist Jean Jaures. It argues that the
evolution of human consciousness has brought with it a new dimension of
being–“trans-being”–capable of repealing the laws of pre-human nature and
constructing a higher order of substance, a conscious, willing substance
that can make and re-make itself. The problem with modernism and pomo
alike is that they not only succumb to capitalist consumerism but also
erect an artificial barrier between the artist and his/her society. Art
becomes something produced only for other artists, a cop-out whereby
humankind at large is deliberately left in the dust. The reproduction of
this art takes full advantage of the mechanisms of the market-place,
simultaneously mocking and exploiting the hapless consumer, who is
simultaneously angered and humiliated by its seeming unintelligibility.
By contrast, art under the Commonwealth would become democratized and
would celebrate what all of us have in common. This happened, before, in
the art movements of the second half of the 19th Century, with the realism
of Courbet and the impressionism of Manet and all their followers; even
the post-impressionists (Van Gogh, Gauguin) eventually found a broad public
able to connect with their sensibility. All of this work is an art of
common humanity. The form that it would take a century from now is of
course unguessable.
world politics, I am
>curious about how you see art intersecting the world system. So, I’m
>wondering if you could elaborate a bit more on these ideas.
Several lines of your letter seem to be missing here. I would just add
that in the “House of Earth,” I anticipate the arts taking on a greater
variety of forms and media of expression, in keeping with the greater
variety, freedom, and complexity of life in such a heterodox culture. But
again, the arts would grow out of communal life, not a standardized
metropolinized “one size fits all” life.
Somewhere I think you also asked me about my own preferences. I feel the
strongest connection to the art of the second half of the 19th Century and
the first half of the 20th, through Picasso and Magritte. My musical
tastes are even narrower, essentially the music of the post-Wagnerian
generation, circa 1880-1920. My favorite composers are Gustav Mahler and
the little-known English composer Frederick Delius. Does any of this “make
sense”? You tell me!
Cheers,
Warren Wagar
———–
3.From: Timothy Comeau
To: W. Warren Wagar
Subject: Thank you for answering
Date: Fri, 13 Apr 2001 22:48:11 -0400
Thank you for responding. You have given me a lot more to think about!
My own take on art history is whereas academic history is a narrative of recorded events, art history offers a record the psychology of the times. I sometimes define an artist as a “psychological historian”. That’s why I appreciate your inclusion of “a short art history of the future”. It’s one thing to be taught that World War I was the first industrial, mechanized war, it’s other to be taught that due to the medical advances of the time, people were surviving injuries that would have previously killed them, which was greatly shocking to the people of the day, to see the maimed “living monsters” as they thought of them, and this in turn is represented in German expressionism of the 20s(Grosz, Beckman).(I realize that’s somewhat simplistic, but I think it illustrates quite well what I am talking about – and it’s how I understand the nihilism of Leroy du Rien).
As it is, I have so far only had a vague working knowledge of Courbet and the 19th Century, but now I’m much more interested. From “the catching up,” I’ve done over the past few days, I can see what you wrote about with greater clarity. It does make a lot of sense.
I admit that my preferences lie more toward what is being done now, the contemporary art of today’s galleries and prizes. But I fully agree with your statements in your letter, art being something produced for other artists (and hence my interest in it – your point exactly) a cop-out
leaving humankind behind. My own take on this is a result of what you call “credicide” in the book.
But it’s also true that art is in a double bind. It seeks to criticize the contemporary, while being entrenched with the consumerist system. It is constantly bitting the hand that feeds it. Art exists in opposition to popular culture -as it has now for almost 150 years. As as admirer of
classical music, you see exactly what I’m talking about when trying to find the few radio stations that play it in the midst of all the other Top 40 stuff. But most people don’t appreciate classical music because for a variety of reasons they don’t invest the time to appreciate it, preffering the quick pop medleys to provide a soundtrack to their lives. Classical musicians make no apologies for not “dumbing down,” and neither do contemporary artists.
I have often thought however, that some of today’s contemporary art is comparable to that of the post impressionists: that they too will “eventually [find] a broad public”. But your book gave me a new way of looking at it all, with contemporary art’s connection to consumerism and capitalism that is by no means a guaranteed economic system. So I thank you for that.
Timothy Comeau
———–
4.From: W. Warren Wagar
To: Timothy Comeau
Subject: Re: Thank you for answering
And thanks for your further comments. I know what you mean about
how contemporary art and music takes time to reach a broader public. In a
sense that’s the whole story of the last two centuries, ever since the
invention of the “avant-garde.” Certainly some of the work done in the
last 50 years or so will eventually find an audience outside the ranks of
its initiates, but it would be a mistake to rely too heavily on the
patterns of the past. Abstract expressionism, for example, still comes
across as more curious than expressive. Dada is still a vast joke,
although widely emulated by the contemporary avant-garde. And the serial
music of the 1940s to 1960s, so universally acclaimed by the music
professors of the period, still falls on deaf ears. Yet without a vibrant
living art, culture can petrify and survive only as museum pieces fit only
for reverence. Wags like to refer to the Met in Lincoln Center as the
Metropolitan Museum of Opera, a showcase for Handel, Mozart, Rossini,
Wagner, and Verdi, staged over and over again. The same goes for all past
great work. No wonder so much of postmodernism consists of quotation. As
someone says in A SHORT HISTORY OF THE FUTURE, “all late culture is
quotation.” What a terrifying thought! (And now, lord help me, I’m
quoting myself.)But much of the blame falls on the academy, I am convinced. Just
as science and technology have become more and more minutely specialized
and professionalized, so the arts have been captured, catalogued,
classified, critiqued, and endlessly subdivided by the academicians. I
was on a doctoral committee recently for a novelist. He got his Ph.D.
with a science-fiction novel. And his partner was getting a Ph.D. for
critiquing gay poetry. Professors tell you whether you’re any good. Even
the writing of history (my field) has lost most of its grace and force
thanks to submission to the canons of professionalism. I have been a
professional academic for 43 years now, and sometimes I feel like a Greek
slave teaching Aristotle to a Roman patrician or a mandarin in the
neo-Confucian court of a Chinese emperor. Of course my “credentials” also
gave me the freedom to write A SHORT HISTORY OF THE FUTURE, so perhaps I
shouldn’t complain.
Enough rambling. Best wishes!
———–
Shortly after this correspondence I went out and bought Phaidon’s book on Courbet and read it within a month, furthering my understanding not only of Realism, but leading to the work of Baudelaire as well. Two years before I had borrowed this book from the NSCAD library, but it didn’t hold my interest at the time.
Psychopaths
In today’s Globe and Mail, ‘Focus’ section, there’s an article called ‘The Psychopath in the Corner Office’ about everyday psychopathic people who rise to positions of power. Mostly because the way the business world is, their ruthlessness is rewarded. These types of articles on ‘everyday psychopaths’ pop up every year or so. This stat:
In Prof. Hare’s estimation, the average incidence of psychopathy in North America is 1% of the population. That would mean there are about 300,000 psychopaths in Canada – and close to 3000 reading this very newspaper today. Perhaps you know one. Or are one.
One percent of the population begins to suggest that this is a normal variety of mind, a way they once characterized autism in a previous article from about two or three years ago.
This article on autism began by suggesting that the autistic mind was a result of natural selection – part of the variety of human being. Which is a decent way of thinking about it. ‘Psychopathy,’ writes the article’s author, Alexandra Gill,’…is a personality disorder characterized by a deep lack of conscience, empathy and compassion’.
With my empathy toward psychopaths activated, I wrote this letter to the editor:
From: Timothy Comeau
To: Letters@globeandmail.com
Date: May 27, 2006 4:45 PM
Subject: re: psychopath articleI read the article on corporate (and other) psychopaths with interest but grew concerned as to the validity of intensive background checks to prevent psychopaths from reaching positions to wreak havoc. Wouldn’t extensive screening lead to making these people unemployable and thereby reducing them to a life of welfare and poverty, where they’d become embittered and even more dangerous? As psychopaths are characterized by a deep lack of empathy and compassion, they’d be victimized by our own lack of empathy and compassion toward them. As the article suggests, our society is too geared toward the appreciation of ruthlessness that it comes as no surprise that so many seem to be high up in the food chain, and perhaps are already occupying their proper social roles.
You once ran an article on autism in which it was suggested that the autistic mind is the result of natural selection – producing variety amongst us. A similar suggestion about the psychopathic mind would have been warranted. But it’s funny that we treat autistics so poorly compared to psychopaths, especially considering that the autistics of the past are probably responsible for so many of our great endeavors while the psychopaths have given us our worst.
Timothy Comeau
As I re-read that now, I see that I should have also added that the way we continue to treat the poor is evidence of our own psychopathic society.
Manliness I
There was another article in today’s paper that I appreciated, about home-grown initiation rites. Also found in the ‘Focus’ section, and titled, ‘Saying goodbye to childhood’, it was about a young chap (Scott) who turned 16 and had an unusual birthday party.
Scott’s parents had organized an unofficial rite of passage to initiate their son into manhood. They invited a group of male friends and relatives they respected to talk to their son about what it means to become a man.
Scott’s mother goes on to say that she wanted something more than the usual ways we ‘self-initiate’.
Those who have studied life transitions agree that rites of passage are important – even essential – for adolescents becoming adults. ‘It doesn’t matter what we call it […] if adults don’t respond, adolescents will initiate themselves, often [but] not always, in destructive ways’. Binge drinking, experimenting with drugs or having sex are some of the ways teens in our society self-initiate.
It’s funny that needs saying, as if written for pre-adolescents, ignoring that everyone else not in question has gone through being a teenager, and should be able to remember how important it was to get laid or drunk for the first time.
The fellow quoted above is Ron Grimes, who wrote a book called Deeply Into the Bone: Re-Inventing Rites of Passage and goes on to say therein that ‘whatever the reason, the past two decades have witnessed a resurgence of interest in the construction of rites of passage’. For Scott, this group of men numbered about twelve: a couple of neighbors, the fathers of some of his friends, is gay uncle with his partner. ‘Few of them knew each other, yet they were asked to share some personal experiences and insights into what it means to be a man’.
‘I wanted him to come away with the idea that being a man is honouring all aspects of his person; the physical, the mental, the spiritual and the emotional,’ [Scott’s father] says.He adds that he didn’t really learn how to live his life as a man until he was about 40 years old and attended a men’s-only weekend workshop in Berkeley, Calif. ‘It was like an initiation. It helped me realize what I missed out on … In my family, there wasn’t much talk about being a man. There wasn’t much discussion about my life beyond school’.
As for what the men told Scott…
the men talked about the necessity of doing the right thing, as hard as that may be, staying true to yourself and not following the crowd, finding something important outside of yourself and contributing to it. And when it comes to sex, being in a committed relationship is better than casual sex.
As Scott’s Mom says, she couldn’t pay someone to say such things. She saw that the following day he had a spring in his step and a pride in himself.
According to [Scott’s mom] society as a whole suffers from young adults being, as she calls it ‘uninitiated’. ‘Lots of teens don’t want to become men or women. We all known of 50 year old ‘boys’ who never said goodbye to their childhood because they weren’t shepherded,’ she says.A new books suggests that she might be on to something. In researching The Boomerang Age: Transitions to Adulthood in Families Simon Fraser University sociologist Barbara Mitchell interviewed 2000 adults from 19 to 35 years old in the greater Vancouver area who had either left home and come back, or never left at all. The majority said their were in their parent’s homes for economic reasons, but about 25% of them (mainly young men) said they were still at home because they weren’t psychologically or emotionally ready to leave.
A lot of the so-called artists I know/knew don’t want to be men or women either.
Manliness II
There appears to be something in the air though, since I’ve noticed attitudes toward manliness are up for discussion. The rise of ‘metrosexuality’ a couple of years ago caused a lot of talk and about 15 years ago there was a lot of talk too about these types of men-only circles (like what Scott’s dad must have gone too) where’d they go out to the woods and howl.
As a young man, trying to find my way without the benefit of young Scott’s experience, and dissatisfied with the initiations I did go through of the usual binge drinking and virginity-loss, I find that I’m also both intrigued and bothered by how the popular ideas about being a man are simply degrading. Why is it, for example, that fast food restaurants try to sell hamburgers by appealing to a fucked-up sense of manliness?
There used to be Harvey’s commercials that did this, and currently there’s a Burger King commercial I’ve seen, with a bunch of men walking tall and proud because they got their meat sandwich. Further, there are those Bud Light commercials advertising a coupon for steaks. WTF?
Recently, a book was published by Harvey Mansfield called Manliness (and this is what comes up when you Google that term as the first result, in addition to its reviews). All the reviews point out Mansfield’s harping against feminists and how, as Mark Kingwell said in his Globe and Mail review some time ago (March 18th, from which I paraphrase), ‘how it manages to offend all sorts of people at once’.
It’s almost to begin to imply that being a man today, or claiming to be one, is to be offensive. Which brings up Aristotle, who’s merely offensive because he’s a Greek Philosopher. That is, Artistotle is a dead white male, a pejorative phrase which Wikipedia tells us:
is a rhetorical device used to deride the emphasis on Western civilization in schools […]. The term was used pejoratively in the early 1990s by those advocating multicultural studies. The term finds widespread usage among members of the educational establishment who see students as agents of social change.
Why is that, to expand our minds and our study to something beyond our immediate context (such as Western Civilization and its heritage) we have to first insult it, or imply that it is offensive?
Nevertheless, it was in Kingwell’s review that I was alerted to Artistotle’s list of manly attributes, found in his Niomachean Ethics.
Ethics are the application of morality, and morality we should consider not as something religious or superstitious but as simply the collection of ideas we have about living a good life. For some, enjoying a cup of tea before bed time is part of a good life, and thus is a moral action, and it thus follows that not buying tea is unethical. For many, enjoying a pint on a patio with friends is a part of a good life, and therefore it would be unethical to shut down all the bars or to quit drinking. Because I’m deeply interested in the variety of moral worlds that you find once you get past the idea that morality has something to do with Jesus (in that sense, it merely represents The Bible’s idea about what a good life is because it’s God’s idea about how we should live our lives), I’m interested in how Artistotle formulated his ideas about what a good Greek life was for a man 2300 years ago.
By Googling for it, I did come across this article earlier this week, written by an apparently young fellow in the States named Jason Roberts who’s dividing time between college and the military according to the posted profile. One almost suspects by this fellow’s way of writing and infatuation with the Classical past (in addition to a seemingly thinly-veiled misogyny) that he hasn’t yet been initiated the traditional way into manliness through sex.
However, he presents Aristotle’s thoughts on being a man through a blockquote from The Niomachean Ethics which we can break down like this –
A man, according to Aristotle, is one who is:
confident in the face of danger
moderate in his use and enjoyment of opulent things
magnanimous in estimation of his own worth
ambitious in his desire of honor
patient in response and dealings with his passions
truthful in his life and dealings with others
righteously indignant when done wrong
and just towards himself and others.
He paints a beautiful portrait of this person, saying that this man:
“????does not take petty risks
nor does he court danger
because there are few things that he values highly
but he takes great risks
and when he faces danger he is unsparing of his life
because to him there are some circumstances in which it is not worth living
he is bound to????speak and act straightforwardly????and
he cannot bear to live in dependence upon somebody else
he does not nurse resentment
In troubles that are unavoidable or of minor importance he is the last person to complain or ask for help
his gait is measured, his voice deep, his speech unhurried.????
Mr. Roberts then writes (interspersed with my italicized comments delimitated by ‘//’):
But today, every single element of manliness that Aristotle described is under attack. The 1960’s ushered in the era of the Feminists. Unlike intellectual trends, feminism became a cultural trend. But not only was their view of womanliness skewed, their view of manliness was also dangerously wrong. Sadly, this view has come to dominate our culture, beit in the form of the metrosexual, the effeminate man, or the man in touch with his feminine side.
// I consider myself to have a healthy dose of metrosexuality, so that I at least have a fashion sense, unlike the fellows you see in the fast-food stereotypes.
Instead of a man who is courageous and confident in facing reality, men are now told that it is okay to be soft and cowardly.
// Agree
Instead of a man who is moderate, men are now told to indulge themselves in the luxuries of life; to spend huge sums on fashionable clothes, stylish haircuts, and manicures.
// I also agree this isn’t admirable
Instead of a man who is magnanimous, men are now told to be pusillanimous; to apologize for their greatness and expound upon their defects.
// ‘pusillanimous’ is defined as: ‘lacking courage and resolution : marked by contemptible timidity’. Is a contraction of this word from whence we get ‘pussy’? In other words, men are now told to be pussies, to apologize for their greatness (in whatever way they are great I suppose – great handymen, with the barbecue, as lovers? – ) and expound on their defects: geesh is that ever true. We trade stories of misery just not seem better than other people.
Instead of a man who is ambitious in his desire of honor, men are now told to seek the lowly and to be meek. Instead of a man who is patient in response to his passions, men are now told to cry uncontrollably, to let their emotions pour out. Instead of a man who is truthful, men are now told that white lies are okay, and that it is better to flatter than to “offend”. Instead of a man who is righteously indignant, men are now told to turn the other cheek; to forgive and forget; to be compassionate to our worst enemies.
// I agree with all of this up until the dig at compassion. Showing compassion to one’s enemies is something only a strong person can do. We see it even in the way Alexander the Great treated his defeated enemies. Showing compassion makes us better than psychopaths.
And instead of a man who is just, men are now told to trade favors, to barter for social acceptance, to achieve by means of social connections, to be tolerant of all opinions, and to love thy neighbor as thyself.
// ‘to love thy neighbor …’ means that true Christians are pussies and have been since the fall of the Roman Empire? This dig begins to get at Nietzche’s ideas about a Master and a Slave Morality, the later of course being the ‘good life ideas’ of the Christians.
This interests me because of my developing ideas about being a man in this society where feminism has been wonderfully successful, and as I grow away from the way I felt about patriarchy at age 25.
My visceral loathing for Bush II began with that disgust for patriarchy, but I should develop this to say that patriarchy is and was repulsive to me because of it’s lunk-headed stupidity, especially in the face of oppression and environmental destruction. It is further exemplified by the way the media uses fat and stupid men in sitcoms to be ‘everyman’ who find a sense of manliness through the eating of meat. Overweight, unhealthy men who obsess over a food which should be a rarity, (not a staple) represent ‘everyman’? I don’t think so. There is also an unfornuate characteristic of patriarchy that glorifies in combat and competition, which is why I could tell during the debates Bush had with Al Gore in 2000 that he’d get the country into a war somehow, since he was such a patriarchial figure-head.
Why are sophisticated wine-snobs never represented on sitcoms or commercials without also being pusillanimous at the same time? Think of Frasier on the eponymous sitcom and his brother Myles. Think of how Myles is also the name of the character in the 2004 film Sideways, the sophisticated writer and wine-snob who is also timid and emotionally devastated by his divorce, while his friend Jack is the lunk-headed fun-loving (probably meat-eating) fellow out to get laid before his wedding day, behaving in a way that is unethical in more than one moral context.
The stupid men stereotypes are the ones prone to be defended by women who should know better (as the sitcom men where once for me) as ‘representing everyman’. Is this because it conforms most readily to their anti-masculine ideology?
This ideology permeates the art world. Take this press-release from last September for example, with my emphasis:
Celebratory Angst: Riggin’ the Exhaust
Steven LaurieUniversity of Western Ontario MFA Thesis Exhibition
Location: ArtLab (UWO Campus/ Visual Arts Building)
Dates of Exhibition: September 16 – 30
Opening Reception: Friday, September 16, 5-7 pm
Description of Exhibition:
Through the use of the suburban backyard/garage as a platform, I am interested in the ideas, images, and behaviors that are culturally recognized as ‘normative’ masculine qualities, and how they influence gender performance. This body of work makes use of the contradictions found within gender-based constructs while attempting to critically address the relationship between labor and leisure and the performances of the everyday.
My current studio practice involves the modification and tuning of gas powered machines that meld the impetuous activities of burning rubber and revving with the aspects of utility and desire. Through isolating and amplifying particular actions, stereotypes and clich???s usually assigned to a masculine proviso, I develop hyper-masculine tools that emphasize the relationship between the male body, extension/attachment and exhibitionism. By using steel, readily available machine parts and exhaust tips I am exploring the intricate ideas of masculinity through the critical perspectives of anxiety and celebration.
My objections to this are that I don’t think gender is any more a performance than sex – that is, the ‘performance’ is very much preprogrammed. We thrust our hips therein instinctively, not because we took fucking lessons. The so called ‘normative’ of male behavior is also very much instinctive, but includes the behaviour of intelligent and sophisticated men, not just the fools, of that common majority that creates the ‘normative’ idea in the first place.
So, Mr. Artist is interested in it, and that means what? – he does a bunch of stuff mocking the subject matter. Imagine if anthropologists, instead of writing descriptive papers and documenting and archiving the culture, enacted performances that mocked their subjects. ‘I’m a native tribesman, I fuck 12 year old girls, I slaughter wild pigs with my bare hands and I believe in forest spirits’. The girl who hates men does a dance, her face skewed into a ugly pose, as she tried to bring out the primitive brutality of her tribal fellow. The audience sips beer and laughs. Afterward they congratulate her. The art world becomes a bunch of self-satisfied assholes who want to mock and encourage divisiveness.
Through my art-world dealings, I find myself on the defensive at times about being a straight (white) man, and why? I see men degraded all around me today and find that as offensive as what women experienced in the 1950s. What does it mean to be a man today, and why should we put up with feminist degradation? I think this is both a fair question and a fair critique of the environment encouraged by feminists, many of whom would prefer to view gender as a performance rather than something deeply genetic. But this is not to say that type of testosterone shock-jock (who are the male gender’s bimbos who degrade us all) is something acceptable either, but is something uncivilized and barbaric.
This type of research into what could be called conservative patriarchal bullshit is thus leading me to want to read Aristotle’s Niomachean Ethics which as I’ve already said, is part of the larger project of understanding different moral/ethical orders as differing visions of the good life.
Which brings me to Brad Pitt; perhaps he best exemplifies our culture’s considerations of manliness. He certainly leads a good life, at least according to what this culture values. He dated Gwyneth Paltrow when she was marketed as the perfect woman, then he married a TV star when she was considered the perfect woman, and now he’s having a baby with a woman considered to be the sexiest woman alive or some such thing. Beyond his famous good looks he’s wealthy and said to be smart, with an interest in architecture (friends with Frank Gehry no less). And, he’s a vegetarian. When you need a manly man for a movie (which function to advertise a variety of moral visions), who does’t eat ‘mheeet’ Pitt’s your man.
He’s Achilles in 2004’s Troy but he is also Tyler Durden in 1999’s Fight Club, which is perhaps our fucked up culture’s version of the Niomachean Ethics. Fight Club‘s a morality tale that had resonance with me, presenting a vision of a good life based on an anti-consumerist ethic and mocking corporate psychopathy. It is also one that begins to question our society’s ideas about manliness. As in for example, this line
Now why do guys like you and me know what a duvet is? Is it essential to our survival, in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No.
Or, this:
Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see us squandering it. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.
Toronto isn’t the best place to live right now. With the two centerpieces of this city’s culture currently undergoing renovations, and with the Power Plant gallery continuing to highlight just how irrelevant and uninteresting most contemporary art is, I find myself bored more often that I’d like to be. But the talk is of a cultural renaissance and the city is looking for some kind of vision for itself. One problem: this is the corporate centre of Canada, and corporations are lousy at vision. Look at advertising – it has become the dominant cultural and visual expression of our society. Pompeii was frozen in time and its frescoes were preserved. Such a disaster in Toronto would only preserve a galaxy of images of vacant expressions and languid poses.And the graffiti. God bless the graffiti. A recent book suggests the ancient cave painting of Europe had more in common to graffiti than they do to religious iconography, which personally makes sense. (However, since we fundamentally know nothing about the cave paintings, they will always be susceptible to fashionable interpretation: a century ago when religion was taken more seriously, they had religious meaning. Now that religion has faded in importance, they’re graffiti. A century from now, a new reading perhaps based on whatever reality is present at that time).
Christopher Hutsul, in today’s Toronto Star, interviewed some people about Toronto’s cultural vision. He spoke to Fiona Smyth, Matthew Teitelbaum (of the AGO) and Sarah Diamond (the new president of OCAD). Why Smyth was chosen to be the voice of Toronto’s artists, I don’t know. I guess he could have picked worse … there are plenty worse. Smyth hasn’t been relevant to the Toronto scene for a decade (at least that’s my understanding). When asked about her vision, Hutsul wrote:
“For painter Fiona Smyth, graffiti should be flat-out decriminalized. ‘Billboards are taking over,’ she says. ‘Every available space is being grabbed by corporations, and graffiti can be a counterpoint to that …. ‘ The art form could extend to our rooftops, which Smyth believes are an untapped resource for gallery space. She imagines a city where rooftops are connected by a network of catwalks and feature sculptures, art pieces and gardens.”
I have some idea of what she’s smoking, but I’d like to point out that artists really need to get off the anti-billboard bandwagon. Only because, we get it. Imagine you want to suggest a new strategy, argue a point, or hell, even get laid. There’s a progression that occurs in proposition, argument and in seduction. You do not belabor the first step. You move forward. Yes billboards suck. Next…..
There’s a self-consciousness at the moment in the Left of what has gone wrong … and this failure to evolve the message is surely one of the problems. Our city is over-corporatized, billboards are part of that, but graffiti is not an antidote to them. Graffiti can be as much of an eyesore … one person’s masterpiece is another’s whack job, and so we need to keep this in mind. I for one like how graffiti throws down some colour on the otherwise gray landscape, shows some imagination.
We shouldn’t even try to understand architects who think raw concrete is lovely, let’s not waste the energy. But let’s think of how there are paint factories in the world capable of producing enough paint to cover the CN Tower if we so chose.
The tower for one is nice enough as it is, but we’re also used to it that way. We are also used to thinking that ancient Greco-Roman architecture was purely white. But it wasn’t – the Greeks and Romans painted their buildings – they seemed to enjoy colour. They seemed to have suffered from the fear of empty spaces known as horror vacui. Yet, in our day and age, the pure white walled room is the temple of contemporary art and culture. The overall message is that colour is bad, somehow not pure, because of the puritan pollution of neo-classicism which still lingers in the mind of the cultural. Rooftops of gardens and sculptures is something they might have done 2000 years ago, but I don’t really think sculpture has much relevance and I further imagine the sculpture would be like the shit atop the poles on Spadina … pure eyesores.
Calling for catwalks and sculpture gardens is just asking for more space to put up advertising kiosks like Derek Sulivan did. Was his project a critique of capitalism, or the suggestion that billboards are ok, as long as they imitate what was done in Europe a century ago?
Teitelbaum suggests expanding the AGO’s exhibitions to outside the space … put stuff up at Union Stn and similar. I suppose he hasn’t walked through BCE place at any time in the past few years, or through that office building on Yonge that had a space Paul Petro used to run. The BCE exhibitions are usually interesting, but ignored by the business people going to and fro. Union Stn wouldn’t work either – the space is too shitty (the Go Train space that is) and that would be your primary audience. People arriving on VIA would be too distracted by their trip to check out art, and no one from downstairs waiting for a Go Train would go upstairs, probably because the show would have stupid hours or be otherwise inaccessible.
The waterfront idea has some merit, but they’d be encroaching on the Power Plant’s territory, and then there’d be a turf war. Power Plant people bitching about the AGO, I can see it now, and it depresses me. But let’s move on to Sarah Diamond, who, it appears, is full of the vigour of naivte. ‘Look at me, I’m the president of an art school! Let’s have a Happening’. Jesus H Christ.
Yes, to reinvigorate our city’s cultural life, let’s go back 40 years, to a time when Henry Moore fell in love with Toronto out of spite. Happenings with scientists. I imagine Power Point presentations on quantum mechanics and relativity theory and oooh, dark matter. A real happening now involves nudity, cocaine, endless kegs, and music that hurts your ears. That’s not something likely to be sanctioned by corporate Canada and its funders.
Diamond goes on to say that arts need to be at the centre and not at the periphery – but they are at the periphery just as much as plumbing is to many of us – because the arts have become a little industry. I mean, if I needed a plumber, I wouldn’t know where to start to find one. It’s hard enough trying to find somebody to fix your computer, let alone your pipes. The arts are the same way. I happen to know lots of artists because I am an artist as well, because that’s my scene. I don’t know any plumbers or computer fix-it people. For Diamond to suggest moving the arts to the centre is the same as the president of plumbing college saying people need to pay more attention to their pipes. Ain’t going to happen darling.
Nor should we have a crowd of artists at Pearson to welcome passengers. Lame lame lame …. I’m not that surprised she got hired on with these splendid ideas. OCAD doesn’t cease to underwelm me (although I was impressed they’d moved their library catalogue to a self-designed Linux system the last time I was there). Artists at Pearson would send a strangely parochial message, suggesting we’re so desperate for other people’s attention that we’re going to do a song and dance and paint them pretty pictures as soon as they get off the plane.
As opposed to a place like New York. You know what New York’s philosophy is don’t you? It’s Fuck You. That’s why people want to go there. Because their amazing, they know it, and because this gives them the self-confidence to be brash and rude and bold. So they can afford to say Fuck You. Toronto: please come see our hobbits on stage! Look at our shiny artists, aren’t we special? When Toronto has the balls to kiss off the rest of the world as we do the rest of Canada (not for nothing we’re so despised) then the world will take notice, find us interesting, and you won’t need artists at the airports. A healthy culture is not a self-conscious culture. Nor is a healthy culture one that looks to Yorkville celebrities as a source of identity, as happens every September.
The article ends with two poets. “Molly Peacock, poetry editor at the Literary Review of Canada, suggests we stamp poetry into every new sidewalk square. Peacock, who helped bring ‘Poetry in Motion’ to the New York transit system, says if this were to happen, we’d be ‘the most marvellously literary city in the world.'”
This would probably make me hate poetry. I like it on the subway, but on sidewalks like this I’d find it oppressive, overwhelming, and a gross validation of text over speech, which isn’t a balance we should be persuaded to topple. If we get all offended by the stupid adverts everywhere, wouldn’t text everywhere underfoot be a similar violation of public space?
The second poet highlights the idea that poets are useless twits who merely have a way with words. “Sonnet L’Abbé believes the key to a more artful city is for people to ‘ease up on the gas’ in the pursuit of economic prosperity and make a ‘personal commitment to loving art. And when I say loving, I mean paying attention to it, getting to know, not just throwing money at it. It’s like a person growing their own artistic flower … If you have enough flowers, then the whole city becomes a garden of people who love and consume and make art.'”
We shouldn’t be asking people who failed chemistry in highschool to suddenly become chemists. ‘Get to know chemistry …’ they’d say, ‘fall in love with the test tube’. Ridiculous. You can’t ask this of people.
But you can try to create an environment where culture is an ambient reality, so that whenever the interests is sparked, they’ll know how to follow it. Recently I’ve been reading the plays of Aristophanes. A couple of weeks ago, on my way to meet a friend and with time to spare, I dropped into the ROM to check out the Greek artifacts and to familiarize myself with the world of those stories. This is what living in the city means to me – the availability of material for the pursuit of my interests. Libraries, galleries, museums … these are there so that we can grow as individuals, so that we can learn something about the world and what it means to be human.
Gardens and sculptures are lame because they are window dressing, imitations of a style that meant something thousands of years ago, when the statues were of gods or heroes. Exhibitions in transit areas are stupid because those are spaces designed to be moved through… and artists at air ports are foolish because only cultures who are trying to impress the bigger more powerful ones are prone to do something like that.
Toronto is not New York because we don’t have the cultural wealth. Build up the wealth by supporting the artists who work here, and by collecting masterpieces from around the world (and not just from the Anglo-American Empire), and then the city could facilitate cultural individuals. As it is, the city’s best libraries are the university ones, which are limited to the public, and the institutions are more interested in their face lifts.
Canada is a great country and I’m of the opinion that a whole generation of artists and the like are currently working in the city, a generation that will be read about in tomorrow’s history books. Forget Andy Warhol, and Happenings, and all that shit New York did in the 1960s. Toronto’s 1960s moment is right now, and let’s pay attention to those artists if you want to feel like you’re living in a culturally vibrant, exciting, and relevant place.
…or the ones from England, Sweden, Canada, whatever. How many of these franchises are there? And what do they all mean?
I’ve said before in conversation that the Idol franchise is remarkable in that it proves that young people aren’t apathetic about voting – they don’t seem to mind voting with their cell phones for pop singers. Further, this willingness to co-opt democracy for cultural workers says something about how we don’t live in a Spartan (Greek/Athenian) or Philistine (Hebrew) culture. We live in one that cherishes a certain kind of art, rather than the lame foolishness of galleries.
I’ve been reading the plays of Aristophanes lately. And some of Aesychlus – I’ve never had that much interest before and remember ten years ago listening to some friends in uni talking about Oedipus Rex and I couldn’t believe anyone would want to read Greek plays nowadays – too old fashioned. But what one gets out of ancient Greek literature is a recognition of some constants of human nature, and a better understanding of the theatre and through this, the attractions of film and television.
But one notes that the playwrights were competing, that the theatre evolved out of a presentation or ritual and a festival. It seems that the same impulse that gave rise to the theatre in ancient Athens is the same that gives rise to American Idol. An audience, voting for the performers in their spectacle. The Greek playwrights told the stories of the city, commenting and alluding to things in a way that we see in sketch comedy shows today, especially something like Saturday Night Live. But SNL is known to be the result of a collective effort, and there’s no voting for the best skit or skit writer.
If the theatre expressed the beliefs of the Athenians, and held a mirror up to their city-state civilization, what does the Idol franchise express? That consumerism is a functional religion for an otherwise collective secular civilization. Because the Idol franchise operates in more than one country, it shows that our civilization is no longer confined to individual nation states, but is spread across a lingu franca English world which we usually call Western. We could just as easily call it the Idolic, given our love of idol worship (see John Ralston Saul, Voltaire’s Bastards Chapter 11).
Our animated images function as gods, ghosts, angels … we have a whole pantheon of celebrity that goes back to this Greek heritage. This Idolic civilization claims to be secular, but is so in practice only, because each nation state has a population of believers within it. It also seems clear that the human being must take a position on a matter of belief: either they’re for a spiritual life, or their not; either they believe in some god, or they don’t; but that’s to say that spirit cannot be a vacuum: something will rush into to fill that void.
Our secular society, which in uncomfortable with open displays of belief, encourages everyone to be in the closet about these matters and functionally consumerist in public. This is what most often fills in that void. But it’s also not that simple … as I write I’m thinking of teenage girls in sneakers and lip gloss, caught up in that superficial world, and asking where does an idea of god fit into that? It’s another aspect of our Idolic civilization: everything is image, everything is mediated by the potential presence of the camera, to look hot is to praise whatever. Is sex our secular god? We all want to look hot to play with the image of sex?
Too often we use the word consumerism, implying that buying stuff is what we want. It seems that we all want style, beauty, cool, attractiveness … things that live up to a religion of image rather than belief. As I write this I’m also trying to figure in the stupid people who gossip about the love lives of their friends at work, who invest in Disney DVDs, whose entire lives seem cliché ridden and empty of what we could call culture in an elitist way. Not that these are bad people, and it seems a given that they’ll always exist, but they’re boring and distasteful. They’re probably quick to identify as Christians as well, so they’re caught between two belief systems: the one they live, and they one they think they live: that is, what they’d tell you despite the evidence. Such a disparity is a sign of unconsciousness, and perhaps that accounts for their appearance of stupidity and the dullness of their conversation. They’re really quite asleep. Or watching the flickering shadows of the television.
The Idol music festival is not designed to praise Dionysus or one particular pantheonic god (accept for maybe Simon Cowell) but is instead designed to generate a market for a forthcoming CD by the winner chosen by the cell-phone voting audience. It’s brilliant marketing, and has unfortunately been copied by everyone. But the willingness to adopt this method to sell speaks of what we consider to be important: living up to an image we come to know through marketing.
I love how the Museum of Canadian Contemporary Art is honoring American art stars. Last November it was Vito Acconci; this April it’s Carolee Schneemann. Be good little provincial rubes and get your tickets now.
video art: In the late 20th Century, art had become so vague a concept that it was colonized by a variety of practices which otherwise had their own industries. Movie makers called themselves video artists. Actors called themselves performance artists. Set designers called themselves installation artists. A language centering on ‘exploration’ developed, so that there were two generations of people trying to figure out what one could do with a technology besides what it was designed for. Was a TV merely for watching tv shows? Was a video camera merely used to record the type of boring stuff one saw in TV shows? These were the types of questions being asked, so that by the time computers and digital video cameras become widely available to the mainstream, the artists had already been trying for 30 years to figure out what more one could do with it, resulting in much work that is no more watchable and comparable to great art than a scientist’s lab-notebook is comparable to great literature. It wasn’t until the capacity for unintentional masterpieces brought about by the computer and the na??ve mainstream video editor that one could begin to talk about a genuine video art. An example in addition to just about anything on Viral Video
Coincidences: a pattern of perception which lends itself to superstition, although if one refuses to indulge in superstition, can find some amusement from them. Examples include:Bush and Quail: quails are birds that hide in bushes. An American president named Bush picked as his vice-president a man named Quayle. This president’s son, also named Bush, picked a vice-president who accidentally shot his friend while hunting quail.
Ford and the Presidents: President Lincoln was assassinated in the Ford’s Theatre in 1865. In the early 20th Century, Henry Ford made the horseless carriage affordable which revolutionized American society and created an eponymous brand, so that by 1963, President Kennedy could be assassinated while riding in a Ford Lincoln convertible.
1st Week of February:
Islam, a religion as iconoclastic as early Judaism (golden calf) says: no pictures. Thus, representing the prophet is enough to inspire protests with regard to mediocre cartoons published four months ago.
2nd Week of February:
1. Photographs from Abu Ghriab, published two years ago, inspire outrage within the United States and the rest of the world. More photos from time of the first batch have been leaked to an Australian newspaper, likely to inspire more outrage. At the same time, a scandal brews in England due to the video (animated images) of soldiers beating Iraqis three years ago.
2. The actor in (what I consider to be offensive) ads for Alexander Keith’s is arrested for owning kiddie porn. Thus, he’s in legal trouble over our culture’s verboten images. Labatt’s, which owns Keith’s, announces they are pulling the ads, because they have suddenly been recontextualized in a way that makes them offensive … the taboo aura surrounding the kiddie porn pictures now influence the animated image of the actor stereotyping the Scottish as beligerent.
In John Ralston Saul’s Voltaire’s Bastards the chapter ‘Life in a Box – Specialization and the Individual’ concerns itself with our Modern Selves, and he writes:
While our mythology suggests that society is like a tree with the ripening fruits of professional individualism growing think upon it, a more accurate image would show a maze of corridors, blocked by endless locked doors, each one leading in or out of a small cell. (p. 507)
This image has thoroughly permeated my conscious understanding of this civilization, so much so that I saw it reflected at work and brought it up in the essay I submitted to a magazine recently. Two weekends ago while channel surfing, I stopped when I saw a maze on the screen – the overhead shot from The Shining of the garden maze.
In a flash I saw that movie as a metaphor for our civilization. There’s the maze mentioned by Saul, and there’s the Hotel, shining psychic energy on the humans. The Hotel represents History, a looming structure, a legacy, built on the graves of people forgotten and ignored. The Hotel shines violence into the mind of The Man, who goes on a rampage and attacks women and children. Our civilization then is made up of violent minded men who excuse their actions by blaming History, saying, ‘its human nature’ or ‘its their fault because of something they did years ago (i.e. ‘Saddam gassed his people)’. The Buddhists would see a good example of Karma. Your actions past and present wear a new pattern into your life, so that it becomes your future action. And in The Shining, Nicholson is told he was always the caretaker, the photo at the end suggesting a karmic rebirth.
On February 8th’s The Colbert Report Alan Dershowitz suggested that we need to license cartoonists and comics, which I find reprehensible, but not that surprising coming from this apologist for American Empire. It’s clear enough that Dershowitz’s ethical compass has lost its magnetism. He was talking about these stupid cartoon protests. Dershowitz’s offensive comment was followed in turn for a commercial: ‘own the best horror movie of 2005; Saw II’.
Why would you want to? But of course, this all makes sense given how violent our society is: Dershowitz saying we need to license comics, he who has advocated the use of torture ‘in extreme situations’ and goes on to argue the neo-con idea that the war on terrorism will never end – that we’re living in the la-la-land of danger and violence and so no more trips to the candy store, no more right to say offensive things, no more release by making fun of assholes like him. And after this rosy vision of our civilization, where we’ve come after hundreds of years of trying to make life a good thing for all, and being told that we defeated Hitler so that we can all live in freedom and happiness, we can enjoy the freedom to purchase two-hours of fictionalized trauma to enjoy with our significant others, or worse yet, all by ourselves.
And yet, there is The Shining made 26 years ago, to show us our society. Our society where violence is causal while condemned with shallow words. Yet somehow our culture manages to create individuals like Gil Fronsdal (a Buddhist teacher) and John Ralston Saul; individuals not seemingly integrated into the violent aspects of our (North American) society. For that matter, there are people like Richard Simmons.
Somehow our culture manages to create criticism which tries to keep these forces of violence and madness in check. People like Dershowitz obviously don’t see the advantage of this. Licensed cartoonists would not be allowed to express the wildness of human imagination, nor would they be allowed to be critical. We need the outlet in our society to be offensive – it’s what’s keeps us from burning down embassies, and which strengthens our minds so that what we find offensive doesn’t inspire violence despite all the cultural signals which imply that is exactly what we should do.
Last week saw a lot of coverage in mainstream media about the protests over some stupid drawings. In the Saturday (11 Feb) Globe and Mail, the editor-in-chief Edward Greenspon argued that they weren’t showing them because they didn’t feel they added anything important to the story, while justifying the occasional photo of bombed bodies on Israeli buses. (In that case I’m thinking of a 2003 front page). He wrote:
‘As one cartoonist said earlier this week, this is not a matter of self-censorship. It is a question of editing. Every day we are faced with similar decisions, particularly in choosing photos. Do we show a naked woman? Do we show a dead baby? Do we show bodies blown apart by a suicide bomber or other samples of the carnage that come our way regularly? Most often the answer is we do not. Only when we feel an offensive photo is absolutely necessary to the understanding of the story do we loosen our restraints.’
This point makes no sense, given that a full understanding of protests about drawings should require that one see them for oneself. I could take the mainstream media’s self-righteousness seriously if this were not the age of the internet and Google. You want to see ’em, go ahead and see them. The same goes for pictures of naked women (naked men aren’t offensive?) dead babies, and carnage (orgish.com?). The media has used arguments of self-censorship and editing to draw us a picture of their own obsolesce.I’ve been wondering about how many people have actually seen the images on the net. As that’s part of what Goodreads is about, I almost sent the link a week ago but on the other hand, I didn’t want to be part of the game of offending people. I’ve been wishing this story would just go away like they always do. Remember two years ago when Mel Gibson was supposedly an anti-semite?
Yet I can relate to being offended by images. In 2002 John Paul II came to Toronto for the World Youth Day and I went and saw him give Mass, since I grew up a Catholic and had seen his photograph at my grandmother’s house for as long as I could remember, in addition to it being very popular in the area. There was a feeling of obligation, mixed with nostalgia I suppose. The night before the Mass, I went to an opening at Art System, the Ontario College of Art and Design student run gallery. Their show was about the Pope, and extended to Catholicism in general. As you can imagine, there were plenty of images of priests and popes sodomizing young boys. For one of the few times in my life, I was offended, but I knew where it was coming from (the rebellious young influenced by the scandals in the news) and having grown up in an open and tolerant society, felt no need to staple a placard to a stick and lead a protest, considering it was all just stupid and immature.
Now, one of the arguments with these Muhammed cartoons is that the editors of the newspaper should have known better. These Muslims are rioting and protesting because they feel insulted. I find it all kind of crazy that some people can get all upset over drawings, but as a visual artist I suppose I’m supposed to get all excited by the power of the medium and jump on the iconographic bandwagon, or get on the side of the cartoonists and talk about freedom of expression and denounce this iconoclasm. But I feel I have better things to do. The World has better things to do.
The editors of newspapers in North America would know better than to publish the images I saw from OCAD. They would be able to see how unfair they were. I’m not sure if that’s censorship, as much as it’s a respect for context. I can well imagine the images published elsewhere – in a show catalogue, in some article critiquing or analyzing the Church’s pederast scandals, in some art history book. The show didn’t warrant getting shut down by the cops, which still happens sometimes. There were no protests.
In this case, the cartoons violate Islam’s prohibition against images, and especially the prohibition in depicting the Prophet. Worse, the arguments made against the images by Muslim spokespeople are that they stereotype Muslims as terrorists. The image by Claus Seidel seems aimed to offend by merely representing Muhammed, whereas the image by Erik Sorensen seems to be as juvenile and ignorant as the shit I saw that night at OCAD.
Further, I have a recent example of being offended by an image. And the image in question is that of an ad featuring Ann Coulter and Robert Novak, featured prominently next to the cartoons here. This webpage thus manages to offend not only Muslims, but secular liberals. And, when I ask myself, ‘why do they keep protesting?’ I’m reminded by Coulter, who recently referred to them as ‘ragheads’.
The best explanation for what’s happened over the past week (advanced by Rick Salutin and reported by Simon Tudiver in Maisonneuve’s Mediascout) is that Muslims are pissed off for always being stereotyped and caricatured as terrorists, from these stupid cartoons to Hollywood’s blockbusters. Tudivier’s headline, by the way, ‘Protesting the cartoon professor’ refers to Peter March, who posted the images on the door of his office at Saint Mary’s University. Peter March was a professor of mine in 1998. After Tudivier raises the Salutin article, he adds, ‘Had Professor March offered up such an idea, MediaScout would have applauded his contribution. We should be looking to our academics to elevate the debate, not debase it by merely inciting an angry mob.’ What’s unclear in the reportage about Prof. March was that he teaches philosophy, and I think it’s fair to suggest that, instead of merely trying to incite an angry mob (as he waded into a protest on campus last week), he was trying to engage in Socratic debate.
Which should help remind us that all of these easy explanations cheapen us all, and I’m going to go back to wishing the world had something better to talk about (like poverty, aids, hunger, global warming, etc). The way the religious keep hijacking the agenda of human betterment seems to me the best advertisement for agnostic secularism, which is why I’m rather happy to live in a Canada, where that’s pretty much the way it is, although we end watching the world’s news for entertainment rather than dealing with our own social agenda. A week ago I wanted to send out the link to the Colbert Report video below, under the headline, ‘why I’m glad I’m not American’ but truth be told, inasmuch as it critiques the American economy, it’s true here as well. This type of thing warrants a lot more discussion than drawings, or ‘turncoat politicians’. – Timothy
In the remarkable chapter Images of Immortality found within John Ralston Saul’s 1992 book Voltaire’s Bastards he says this while tracing the development of artist heroes:
When Romanticism began to flourish in the late 18th Century and the ego began to grow until it dominated public life, people abruptly found Raphael far too modest a fellow to have been the father of the perfect image. So they tended to fall into line with the description of the technical breakthroughs which had been provided by Vasari in his Lives of the Painters, written shortly after the actual events. In other words, they transferred the credit to an irresponsible, antisocial individualist, Michelangelo – a veritable caricature of the artist in the 20th Century. If we were ever able to create a reasonable, open society, Leonardo would no doubt cease appearing to us as an overwhelming, almost forbidding, giant and the credit would be switched to him.
Since that time, Marcel Duchamp (analytical, reasonable) has overtaken Picasso (irresponsible, antisocial individualist that he was) as the greatest artist of the 20th Century, and Leonardo has inspired one of the most read books in the history of the world. Although there is a ton of political evidence to the contrary, perhaps we are witnessing the transition toward a reasonable open society after all? Slowly the balance is shifting so that the President of the United States says ‘Americans are addicted to oil’ and these five words become a headline (as it did yesterday on the Drudgereport), representing as they do a significant shift toward reality from a man famously blinded by ideology.
This Leonardo angle comes by way of the Martin Kemp interview link herein, in which he also complains about art writing. After they talk about his Leonardo book, they get to talking about contemporary art, and Kemp says the following:
AFH: What do you think of all the writing generated by the art world?
MK: There is a lot of writing generated that is redundant. When I was a graduate student, I used to review exhibitions and I found that sitting on the train heading in to London to see the show, I would be writing the review before I arrived. At one point when I was working in Glasgow, I did a review for the Guardian of a nonexistent exhibition, which consisted of all the popular words and apparatus. It was a critical account that stood independently and I then dropped in a spurious artist in to the framework. You see a lot of writing like that allows the machinery to go on by just dropping a name into the mix along the way.
AFH: Do you think this kind of writing is destructive to art or artists?
MK: One thing that has happened very dramatically is that artists in the educational system have to produce more written work as part of their degrees. That has had an effect on artists and artistic production. I think many artists are automatically thinking about how the work will be written about when they are making it. It is not necessarily that they plan, but they can’t stop doing it. That hyper-sensitivity to the written word and what artists need to say about their own work, knowing they will be interviewed, often goes alongside a very self-consciousness about how work will look in reproduction, how it will be discussed, how artists need to justify their own work in the media. The issue is how to corral the artists and the critics into one arena that represents the work well.
This leads me to post the Jerry Saltz article from the end of December, wherein he talks about being a critic. Personally my own experience with writing criticism slanted me toward thinking it wasn’t worth it. Better to let people make up their own minds about things. There’s a difference between criticism and publicity afterall, and no artist wants real criticism. Such genuine critique comes from someone like John Carey, where in the last link this is said about the art world: “Approved high art, Carey insists again and again, is too often simply a marker of class, education and wealth. ‘It assures you of your specialness. It inscribes you in the book of life, from which the nameless masses are excluded.’ Yet ‘the characteristics of popular or mass art that seem most objectionable to its high-art critics — violence, sensationalism, escapism, an obsession with romantic love — minister to human needs inherited from our remote ancestors over hundreds of thousands of years.'” It seems to me that in an increasingly open and reasonable society, professional artists would be derided for their unreasonable snobbish attitudes. But that’s just me.
Finally, a link to a Daily Show clip on Crooks and Liars. They offer two video feeds, one Windows and the other a Quicktime, but the quicktime one doesn’t work as a type this (maybe later?). The clip goes over the James Frey debacle, pointing out that while political lying is pooh-poohed, Oprah’s humiliation is that she ‘forced Americans to read, when they really didn’t have to’.
Why am I so cranky when it comes to the art-world? Well, for example, John Ralston Saul’s ‘Images of Immortality’ a chapter in his 1992 book, Voltaire’s Bastards, comes across as the perfect art history, an overview from whence we’ve come, and relevant to our technological lives. Yet I began art school four years after it was made available through publication, and have not read it until now.So I resent an art education which did not expose me to this when it should have. I resent the art world that ignores such resources, or blindly treats them as irrelevant because it was written in Toronto and not Paris. Simple answer.
The Current had a discussion this morning on political vision, and why there doesn’t seem to be any during this election campaign, or for that matter, ever. Which just reminds me that the current crop of politicians in Ottawa are old men without ideas. The Current played clips of what are usually considered political visionaries – Martin Luther King, Trudeau, Kennedy, who are all comfortably dead with faults forgotten. Nevertheless they are voices from the 1960s, an over-idealized time to ‘the grown ups’ of my generation, and a time that means little to someone like me who came into the world in the midst of disco. Means little, except for seeming like a dream time when politicians had the balls to do stuff, like send men to the moon, and not whine about how much it’d cost. The only thing for which money seems to not be an obstacle nowadays is for pissing on our rights. But I digress.
Let’s consider what our options are:
The Liberals: they could have given us a guaranteed income thirty years ago but that didn’t happen. They’ve been promising to decriminalize marijuana for that long as well, but again, pigs will fly first. They’ve been letting Sea King helicopters fall out of the sky since 1993, buying second-rate submarines that catch fire, and talking about a National Child Care program for just as long. They don’t do shit but preen and stammer before the cameras and try to hold on to power. My time as a Board member here and there has given me insight both on how inaction happens, and how easy it can be to be overwhelmed by plans and papers and etcs. Anyway, the Liberals could use a dose of decisiveness. (Of course, if they were decisive, some people would protest).
The Conservatives: the wolf has bought a suit of sheep’s clothing at Moores. Suddenly they’re ahead in the polls and it doesn’t seem that scary. Maybe because the Liberals come across as so pathetic and tired. Maybe as well I’m dazzled by the fact that a political leader is actually laying out an agenda.
The NDP: what the hell is wrong with this country that Layton and the NDP don’t have a huge lead? The only party that makes any sense on anything, the only party made up of people who come across as human beings and not imagination-less managers (Liberals) and simply cold-hearted, mean and stupid (Conservatives), you’d think the NDP could win an election or two. But instead they’re stuck at 15%, which is to say only 15% of the electorate are worth having a beer with. Geesh.
Green Party: What a joke. They can’t even get on the news.
Of course, to be fair to both the Greens and the NDP, the news, (that is ‘the media’) displays clear bias in framing the choice as that between the Conservatives and the Liberals. The NDP are always talked about as if they were the underdog, and the media refuses to take them seriously. They look at the poll numbers as if their 15% wasn’t in fact, their creation, which it is. That fifteen percent (I’m sure it’s fair to say) reflect the citizens of this country who read and who may or may not have a television set, and thus are informed by a plurality of sources and are comfortable thinking about things themselves, rather than be spoon-fed ideas by punditry.
As for the Greens, they can’t even get included on the televised debates … why? Is it the politicians or the TV producers that think we’re too stupid to follow that many talking heads?
They debates themselves are anything but a debate. Speechifying and posturing and practiced mannerisms and phony, cued-up smiles. A debate is what we see the talk shows for christ’s sakes, and if that gets the ratings and get’s the livingroom agitated, why the hell can’t the politicians do that? Why can’t Paul Martin go all Dr. Phil on Stephen Harper and vice-versa?
Perhaps something like this:
Martin: Now listen Stephen, I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear. I think you’re wrong about a lot of issues. I think, for example, you still harping on about gay-marriage and your infatuation for tax cuts isn’t good for the country. In a world of hate, why should we persecute and pick on people who simply want to love one another? And taxes are just an indirect way of paying for things that would cost you much more if that service was in the hands of a corporation.
Harper: I respect that point of view, but I disagree, and in the case of gay-marriage, I’ll have to respectfully disagree. But he’s thinking about respecting his poor old grandma and infatuated with the old white-picket fence vision of the world, because he thinks Adam and Steve isn’t the way the story should be told. My view is that people work hard for their money and such a large percentage of it shouldn’t be taxed away just so that you can redistrubute it in what was clearly an entranched crony system. The episode with Mr. Goodale is simply the latest example. There has to be a better way of running the country than you have for the past 12 years.
Layton: [interjecting] Can I say something ….
Moderator: No, it’s not your turn yet. And thus earning extra pay for pissing on the NDP. Mr. Duceppe, do you have anything to add?
Duceppe: No, it’s become rather clear that Canada doesn’t work, and so our aim of a sovereignty seems to make sense doesn’t it?
Given that the Conservatives are the ‘official opposition’ (that is, they came in a clear 2nd in the last election) CBC and the like think that means they are the clear second choice. And yet, we re-elected Liberals time and time again because we all hated Mulroney so much. The ’93 election decimated the Conservatives, and they lingered on with reduced numbers while the angry Westerners kept sending the Reform party to Ottawa, and for a time, the Bloc Quebecois was the ‘official opposition’. So after the Reform renamed itself to the Aliance and incorporated the old Progressive Conservatives into its ranks, (thereby making the voter who wanted Senate reform and less Quebec-centrism politics a conservative) suddenly they win enough seats to come in second.
And they booed Belinda Stronach when she spoke up at their convention last spring in support of gay marriage. The woman who, it was said, orchestrated to the merger of the parties, and then ran for its leadership. And then she dumped her boyfriend Mr. McKay to go become a Minister of something or other (what again?) by switching sides.
Oy vey.
So the story of Canadian politics over the past decade and half is more of a soap opera than of any social progress and implementation of policy that makes all of our lives better, the type of thing they were fond of doing in the 19th Century, when they thought a railway across the continent was a good idea, as were public schools. It was a trend you know, once, to care about the citizens and to build a future, and so, we got ourselves Medicare, which is now talked about as being ‘the soul of the country’ (John Doyle wrote that in the Globe last month, critiquing the documentary which in turn was critiquing ‘the funding mechanism’).
Merry Old England was derided by Napoleon as a ‘nation of shopkeepers’. Perhaps our partial English heritage is one of the reasons we get so attached to economic structures like funding mechanisms for doctors and hospitals, and department stores like Eatons and a corporation called the NHL. But ok, in that vein, let’s propose some 21st Century visions:
renticare: we figured out a way to keep people from paying medical bills when they get shot in Toronto, except now days they have to pay for the ambulance and all this other shit that should be free as well. But whatever … it seems to me that they’d be able to pay for the other things if they weren’t wasting money paying rent. Where does rent go? On the landlords’ mortgage or in their pocket … is that not true? It seems to me it’s a lateral transaction that simply enriches a few and improvishes many, kind of like what paying for an operation is like in the US. Them doctors, so rich, so expensive, that the poor just don’t go. Renticare baby – that’s the future. Homelessness would vanish, that seems pretty clear. No more sad stories and excuses and appeals from charities. It’s not like Ottawa can’t afford it, with its record surpluses for years now.
Instead we get Harper saying he’d give $100 buck a month to new families, and Paul Martin saying they’d pay for half the tuition for post-secondary students in their first and last years. Tuition, of course, being the cheapest part of the package, the living expense part being the real killer. (Everybody knows that the student loan program is simply a disguised subsidy to the beer companies). Which brings me to my second vision for the future of Canada:
wipe out student debt: why the hell should I have to pay back all this money, spent supporting the Halifax economy, and enriching a rich landlord? I look back now and say, I helped keep Shoppers Drug Mart, various bars, fast food restaurants and coffee shops going, and in turn, employing that many people. Then there was the tuition, which was a small percentage of the total debt. On top of this, I’m supposed to pay back interest, because I need to be taught a lesson of fiscal responsibility and be ushered into the wonderful modern world of usery. How else is our economy supposed to grow? How else are we going to make money, the governments ask, forgetting about their taxes, which are supposed to pay for social services, like child care programs, or the bureaucratic management of the government’s own grow-ops, producing weak marijuana for those to whom it’s medically sanctioned. Because of course, it’s devastating for society and our ethics that anyone get high in Canada, especially if they have cancer.
Student debt is a severe problem for our society, and yet no politician is talking about it (well, Layton’s said some things, but I’m forgetting he doesn’t count). Why not pay people to go to school instead?
classify students as workers: As Warren Wagar wrote, when he introduced this idea in his 1999 book, A Short History of the Future,‘all adult students were workers, whether their studies were undertaken to satisfy a market demand or not. Work had come to include the enlargement of the self, on the premise that every increase in personal capacity achieved without exploitation of the labor of others represented a net gain for the whole society of associated selves.’
By classifying students as workers, they’d be eligible to receive a wage. Imagine going to school as a job, graduating with a healthy bank account and not burdened by debt. Student Loan programs should be replaced with Student Subsidy ones. I can’t imagine any harm being done to our society by having an educated populace.
Rather, it seems to me that the whole point of the system (the job, the house, the lifestyle idea) is to help us be fully human, to enable us to enjoy our lives. And that simply can’t be done within the status quo. Without getting into the usual capitalist critique, the status quo is set up to divide us into demographic markets and sell us the idea of happiness, while keeping us bat-shit miserable so that the next commercial and Caribbean vacation will seem appealing.
Currently, we’re dealing with a system (inherited from a less kind world), that sets up the winner-loser dynamic throughout our lives. In Bowling for Columbine, the fellow who makes South Park explained the Columbine Massacre as being a result of that dynamic. The current media sensation of gun-violence in Toronto is also a result of that dynamic. We all deserve better. There’s no reason to think some people are just born stupid and are hopeless. If we’re going to have a percentage of the population who will always be useless, they might as well spend their time in university libraries to make the money for their pot purchase, which should have been made legal thirty years ago.
Which brings me to the last vision, and the links:
the most educated citizens in the world: As Michael Ignatieff said last spring, ‘let’s get the federal governments, the provincial governments, the municipal governments working together to make Canadians the best educated, most literate, numerate, and skilled people on the face of the earth’. This plays into the article by Timothy Brown, which I’ve linked to before, and one of the oddest sources of anything visionary. Outlining the world of a role-playing game called 2300 AD, he wrote of Canada:
‘A national effort began in the 22nd century to make Canada the higher education center of the world. A tremendous effort was put into motion at that time to attract great thinkers to Canada to teach, to build facilities which would draw students from around the world, and to build a worldwide reputation for superb education and positive results. Canada correctly recognized the economic potential in being a leader in education. Other nations eventually began sending students, as a matter of national policy, to Canada, not wanting to be left behind in the thinking of the age. By the end of the century Canada had achieved its goal and remains the uncontested master of higher education on Earth.’
As an artist, this got me to thinking about what kind of culture such students would find, and helped me consider the cultural legacy we (and I as a cultural worker) were building. For Ignatieff to be articulating this makes it seem possible, but then again, his chances of actually getting elected seem slim (which is merely another example of Liberal incompetence).
However, the century is still young, and the ‘leadership’ isn’t getting any younger, so there’s still time to make such ideas a reality. Unfortunately, they are not a choices to consider on January 23rd.
I’m borderline bored today. Read some of Sources of the Self but there’s too much talk of God. Read about how he thinks we may be in a watershed time (written though in the late 1980s) and spoke of how we have a hard time imagining old ideas like the divine right of kings. I’m at the point where I have a hard time imagining God ideas – although I remember faith, I’m working with a memory of an experience, which is different than actually feeling it as real today. It’s like my thoughts last week on myth – as something we’ve overcome, or something which served us and does no longer.I must say I’m particularly animated by the idea that I live in a complicated and technologically sophisticated civilisation. This is something Firefly helped bring to my awareness, through their contextualization of humans spread out across a new solar system, having packed up everything and moved it off world, where they felt free to begin the process of ecological destruction to build complicated early 21st Century cities all over again since there was now many worlds of resources at their disposal. And how Joss Whedon talked of wanting a show that was about ‘us’ – early 21st Century Americans (including Canadians) and revisiting the Western. And so you have a future five hundred years away in which everyone is using things we’re familiar with, like keyboards (no mysterious interfaces like on Star Trek and printed tee-shirts, and everything very familiar to us, as if we have in many ways plateaued, similarly to the way the candle and travel by horse was familiar to people across the centuries before the lightbulb.
So, the idea that I’m living in an emerging global civilization, which is so complex, but which enables me to do almost anything, I find interesting and exciting. To be here when it’s all new and fresh. And what this all means opposed to the Old World, and old world art and culture.
As an artist, I’ve struggled to find my voice and my place within the culture. I’ve also been caught up in the myopia of industry – to participate in the segregation, to go to openings, to party with fellow cultural workers, to read the poorly written and poorly thought documents, all the while not seeing the forest for the trees, and all the while looking in a rear-view mirror as it were: things from the past, and cultural movements better seen through hindsight. Getting lost in what it all means.
We are cut off in the end, from the experience of our lives, what it means to be alive now and to be comfortable with our selves. I sense a great trembling before uncertainty in this regard – the Buddhists who tell us we can be happy now and who want to enlighten us, wake us up to the wonder already here in our lives, but simply getting us to pay attention to our minds and our thinking – this is all seen with a sense of skepticism, but also, I think, there is a deep nostalgia for misery. So used to complaining and to being entertained through moving picture stories, we fear the length of our lives and the prospect of being bored.
Northrop Frye’s article on boredom vs. leisure summarizes the cultural wars I’ve witnessed in my still young life, and in the end lays it all on education … which broadens our perspectives to take in more than what the narrow view offers, the narrow view being by definition limited and quickly exhausted, so we find ourselves bored. The leisured, on the other hand, move through life being productive, pursuing their interests and by default contributing to society and civilization.
But what does any of this mean? What is it to contribute to humanity or civilization or to society? Those ideas were dissected by the post-structuralists which encouraged what Waggar called credicide, draining from our lives the sense of meaning which animated our imaginations and hence our lives – gave us that sense of certainty we seem to desire.
Perhaps our need for certainty is genetic, stemming from the days when uncertainty about yonder hill could get one eaten by a leopard. If that’s the case, we need a technology to deal with it. However, like our obesity problem, we’ve fallen victim to ancient biologies – comfort foods being comforting because of their fat content, which was very useful in scavenging days, but no longer. We now know this through science, and the concept of calories can help us control what we eat, in addition we know that to burn extra calories we need to exercise. But do we have similar knowledge to help us live with uncertainty? Is Buddhism such a technology?
The question is not one of who to make art for – fellow artists and further for collectors. But how to make something so that for the next thousand years, anyone (or at least, some) can see it or read it or whatever, and know that I was a human being just like they are, that I felt as they do sometimes, and in so doing, help bridge the gap of time, help them feel like they are part of the bigger story of civilization. So today, in 2005, I can read St. Augustine’ Confessions and recognize a fellow human being, and learn something of the context of those times. Again, people are still reading Tolstoy’s War & Peace which is set two hundred years ago, and in the process are learning a greater context.
If myth has died out in our age, one sees how that narrative culture we live in has replaced it. The past century was one resembling the wipe of a movie – the fade in or the fade out, how briefly the two images are combined in one still. The Old World of horses and carriages, inkwells and candles; of killing whales for oil, was replaced by a world where we dug oil out of the ground, to fuel our combustible engines for what was at first called a horseless carriage, and inkwells disappeared into speciality shops and art supply stores. Myth died and was replaced by the novel and movie, either projected in two to three hour stories on a large screen (replacing live theatre) or was divided up into half hour to an hour segments for the television machine of living rooms. Poetry, which was exulted for so long in so many cultures, disappeared too into specialty markets, replaced by the lyrics of pop music. Firefly suggests this new world will be with us for another five hundred years.
Picking up on the rear-view-mirror comment: one thinks of the side mirrors, and this past week I was trying to imagine what vision for a rabbit must be like, with it’s eyes on the side of it’s head, forward and backward in their periphery. How would their brains assemble the picture? Our eyes both face forward, overlapping, giving us and animals like us (apes and cats and so forth) binocular vision. I imagine something of what a rabbit experiences could be seen by placing two side view mirrors in front of us, at the angle so that we see the sweep behind, and are blinded near what we experience as front.
If hindsight then, is 20/20, one should further argue that this is the case for animals. The whole point of our lives since the beginning has seemed to be better than the animals. To be human is to see what’s in front of you clearly, and to be blind to what’s behind.
There’s an interview with Slavoj Zizek from the Guardian which pretty much confirms my suspicions as to why I shouldn’t take him seriously – I first heard of him a couple of years ago through a friend who was briefly infatuated with his writing; then looking into it I found it unintelligible, and then further it became Lacan inspired nonsense, and now James Harkins has laid it all out for us, in an interview subtlety designed to impress those with my prejudices, which he perhaps shares.
My highlights:
A one-man heavy industry of cultural criticism, the 58-year-old Zizek has authored more than 50 books, which have been translated into more than 20 languages, on subjects as diverse as Hitchcock, Lenin, and the terrorist attacks of September 11. His brand of social theory – a peculiar amalgam of Karl Marx, the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan and the trash can of contemporary popular culture – has long afforded him a cult following among fashionable young academics.
Comment: Marx and Lacan are two examples of pseudo-science, and refering to the trash can of pop culture is to say that as trash perhaps it’s not something worth dealing with. Zizek appeals to ‘fashionable young’ academics – which is to say the naive, impressionable, and shallow. Would it not be true that to build arguments out of things not really worth considering is to build an argument itself not worth considering, the equivalent of fantasy?
If I were as fame hungry and vain as Zizek, I might want to start interpreting everything through the lens of Brothers Grimm fairy tales.
No longer tethered to a single institution, Zizek spends his time roving between speaking engagements at institutions all over the world. He is leaving London first thing tomorrow, he tells me, for Paris to be profiled by the newspaper Libèration. Then he is off to headline a Design Congress in Copenhagen (“??7,500,” he shouts to me, still under the photographer’s cosh, “first-class everything, and all that for 40 minutes selling them some old stuff”) and then it is back to Slovenia.
Comment: First class everything, eh? Not bad for a Revolutionary Marxist. The type that overthrows exploitative aristocracy to become aristocracy themselves. Some animals are more equal than others.
On April 1 this year (“a great day to get married”), he married a 27-year-old Argentinian former lingerie model and now spends one third of his time in Slovenia looking after his young son from a former marriage, a third of his time with his new wife in Buenos Aires, and the rest of his time on the road.
Comment: Here we have the degradation of men, especially of older men, who are represented as commitment phobic and chasing after women young enough to be their daughters. Here we have Zizek knocking up a ‘former lingerie model’ which is to say, she had nice tits and an exemplary body, and probably cannot converse at Zizek’s level when it comes to ideas. Zizek has a child from a former marriage, which is also to imply that the lingerie model is a home-wrecker. Zizek, being the ethical fellow we know him to be (“Come on,” he says. “I don’t have any problem violating my own insights in practice.”) could not resist the temptation offered by his new wife. In the end, one is left with thinking: what a fucking bastard.
And not to mention the whole thing about him resembling Jesus.
Earlier this year I had the misfortune of attending an abysmal presentation by a visiting academic at one of Toronto’s universities. Afterward, over drinks with my companion, we talked about my dislike for what we had experienced. I wasn’t too fond of the theorizing, having come to see psychoanalysts and their spawn (Lacan and his followers) as practitioners of a pseudo-science, and their theory disconnected from anything I’ve ever considered real. My friend spoke of refinement, that participating and discussing ideas at that level was form of distinction, and sophistication. Her arguments immediately made me think of this by John Ralston Saul, which I’d recently read. I think he convinced me when he threw in the bit about the shoes.
White Bread Post-modern urban individuals, who spend their days in offices , have taken to insisting that she or he is primarily a physical being equipped with the muscles of a work-horse and the clothes of a cowboy. The rejection of white bread in favor of loaves compacted with the sort of coarse, scarcely ground grains once consumed solely by the poor follows quite naturally.
White bread is the sophisticated product of a civilization taken to its ideological conclusion: essential goods originally limited by their use in daily life have been continually refined until all utility has been removed. Utility is vulgar. In this particular case, nutrition and fibre were the principal enemies of progress. With the disappearance of utility what remains is form, the highest quality of high civilizations.
And whenever form presides, it replaces ordinary content with logic and artifice. The North American loaf may be tasteless but remains eternally fresh thanks to the efficient use of chemicals. The French baguette turns into solidified sawdust within two hours of being baked, which creates the social excitement of having to eat it the moment it comes out of the oven. The Italians have introduced an intriguing mixture of tastes – hands towels on the inside and cardboard in the crust. The Spanish managed to give the impression of having replaced natural fibre with baked sand. There are dozens of other variations. The Greek. The Dutch. Even the world of international hotels has developed its own white roll.
In each case, to refine flour beyond utility is to become refined. This phenomenon is by no means limited to bread or even food. Our society is filled with success stories of high culture, from men’s ties to women’s shoes.
In his book on Northrop Frye1, Jonathan Hart describes Roland Barthes as attacking the myths of ‘the bourgeoisie’ and stating that for Barthes, the problem with what is often translated as ‘middle class’ was its inability to imagine the other. Thus, I go through artschool being informed and taught these Marxist ideas, and for a time immediately after graduating am prone to denounce middle-class values as bourgeois.
Then I read Steven Pinker’s account of the middle class (in The Blank Slate, p.416, in his chapter on art), which I had to agree with:
As for sneering at the boureoisie, it is a sophomoric grab at status with no claim to moral or political virtue. The fact is that the values of the middle class – personal responsilbilty, devotion to family and neighborhood, avoidance of macho violence, respect for liberal democracy – are good things, not bad things. Most of the world wants to join the bourgeoisie, and most artists are members of good standing who adopted a few bohemian affectations. Given the history of the 20th Century, the reluctance of the bourgeoisie to join mass utopian uprisings can hardly be held against them. And if they want to hang a painting of a red barn or a weeping clown above their couch, it’s none of our damn business.
The problem of imagining the other is still with us, but like everything has been updated to a new century’s context. ( I’m inclined to say it’s generational in one regard – my parents certainly have this problem, but my parents are also political and social conservatives).
The problem of imagining the other was clear to me in the article I read yesterday by Anthony Harrigan, called ‘History, the Past, and Inner Life’ (PDF) which seemed interesting at first but then became intolerable. He seems to argue that while in the past there has been a connection between a technically advanced society and barbaric behavior (the Nazis) he seems to imply that one cause the other, which is nonsense. He says this of the culture of the United States:
One has only to look at the ‘entertainment’ industry media in the United States. The technology of the electronic media is unparalleled in the world, but much of the comment is hostile to the values of our inherited civilization. The tide of pornography is rising, flooding the internet, exposing the average user to the most vile images.
Which was the first thing to make me suspicious. Then he goes on to write:
Dr. McClay has pointed out that an increasing number of academic historians strive to ‘demonstrate that all our inherited institutions, beliefs, conventions, and normative values are arbitrary ???social construction in the service of power???and therefore without legitimacy or authority.’
An argument to which I’m sympathetic, since I don’t have such a negative view of humanity to see them as all power greedy, preferring the Buddhist view that all beings desire happiness. His point though is raised in order to say the following:
We see this process at work in the effort to de-legitimize the institution of marriage established as a religiously ordained estate between a man and a woman. Judicial validation of ‘civil unions’ between homosexuals undermines the most fundamental institution of our society, monogamous marriage. It opens the door to polygamy and every sort of perverted sexual activity, including bestiality.
Which is of course bullshit, and our first clear example of this fellow being unable to imagine the other. And yet, when reading this yesterday, Marxist terms filtered through French semiology did not pop into my mind; instead I had the realization that I was reading the right-wing point of view.
One reads on, to find this gem of intolerance (the emphasis within is mine):
In this era in which leftist social doctrines prevail, it isn???t surprising that great emphasis is placed on multiculturalism in schools and colleges. The aim in promoting multiculturalism is to downgrade or disavow the culture of our nation and civilization. In many educational institutions, for instance, students are launched into the culture of India before they study the culture of the United States and the Western world. This is a deliberate process designed to underscore the point that our American and Western history and values do not have primacy. Multiculturalism leaves those exposed to it morally disoriented and rootless. Students are supposed to learn that there is nothing special about our traditions; no one is to regard them as having authority in life. A mishmash of culture is ladled out so that young people are without authoritative guidance in adopting values. Those who want to downgrade our traditions and values have what the writer Joan Didion has referred to as ???preferred narratives.??? These narratives have as their central theme that the United States has an oppressive society and has been that way from the start. They regard the Constitution of the United States as a conspiracy against the powerless. They choose to depict minorities as victims regardless of the particular circumstances.
Here I see the power of freedom of speech and thought, to be able to read something I find offensive but which gives me a privileged glismpe into answering the question we express nowadays with ‘WTF?’
What the fuck they are thinking is that multiculturalism is to degrade one’s own culture? How about the idea that we take our congenital cultures for granted – that we don’t need to appreciate them since we are living within it, and see The Other as offering us different perspectives. One thing that Mr. Harrigan does throughout is to talk of ‘our culture, and our civilization’, dividing the world into haves and have nots, closing the door to ‘guests’ in a sense. One detects a distinctive lack of welcome in his use of words.
How does one claim a culture with such certainty? And I think it needs to be asked, why should anyone be so proud of the parochial, patriarchal American culture, so sure of itself, that it doesn’t require the perspectives of other experiences? As Kurt Vonnegut brought up in his recent appearance on The Daily Show in a sarcastic defense of the situation in Iraq, a new democracy takes 100 years to free its slaves, and 150 years to give women the vote, and that at the beginning of democracy, quite a bit of genocide and ethnic cleansing is quite ok.
Why is it about the Right that seems to require this sense of certainty? The argument here seems to be that Mr. Harrigan is so weak-minded that being exposed to the Kama Sutra will cause him to indulge in hedonistic pleasures of which he never dreamed, instead of simply saying, ‘that’s not for me’? You encounter this weak-mindedness with their talk on God and morality – that without God existing, there’d be no reason for moral rules, and than what do you do? How about continue to treat others well because, as it’s been said by many a previous Christian, ‘a good deed is its own reward’?
My ultimate point here though is to say that talk of ‘the bourgeoisie’ is outdated, and that to be able to make the same points being made 50 years ago by the likes of Roland Barthes, one talks of ‘the right wing’ or ‘conservatives’. Which is a little unfortunate – a conservative streak in society that builds museums, ‘to conserve’ is welcome and necessary, but one that fails to imagine other cultures and appreciate their differences and the perspectives those differences offer is simply toxic.
I spent a week in Maine at the end of July, mostly reading fat books but every now and then giving my mind a rest with some channel surfing. The impression I got from my sampling of pure American television was that their reputation for being not to bright seemed well deserved. In that broadcast environment, even PBS looked dopey. I found myself really missing TVO and the CBC.
But, having come to see how great the CBC is, and how important it is to our television recipes, I can’t say I very much care about the current lockout. Because it’s been August, and I see it as part of the vacation – the usual cancon channels on radio and TV are whacked and so what? I can handle it. It’ll be over eventually. In addition, I do have lots of books to read and TV is mostly a waste of time, especially in the summer. I also have a new gig which means I’m not doing my regular home-office hours anymore, with CBC Newsworld on it the kitchen to give me something to listen to – I’m out and about and ignoring daytime TV.
Perhaps I’m just not facing the reality that it could go on and on like that hockey thing. I hear though that it could go on for at least 7 weeks – oh well. I mean, Peter Mansbridge didn’t get to fly to New Orleans to report from the scene, and who really cares? (Wasn’t it kind of disturbing the way all the reporters took the Boxing Day tsunami as an excuse to get out of the frigid continent for a few days … ?) I’ve had CNN on the past couple of days for those hours when I am ‘in the office’ because I have to orient myself to the reality that Louisiana now has more in common with Bangladesh than it does Ontario. Disasters do have a certain fascination and inspire a kind of awe, but it almost seems a good thing that I’m not getting a Canadian perspective on this story.
Anyway, with that nod to current events out of the way, I want to talk about the bigger picture of this CBC dispute. I think I dreamt about it last night, having some conversation about it, where I said that it being a lockout means that the CBC in effect fired their entire staff. In the first week, lots of people joked that the CBC is actually better now than the big egos have been temporarily put out to sidewalk. This sort of division in power – management versus the personalities and support staff, suggests the CBC is a creature with two heads and can function just fine with one. That’s a little disconcerting since it suggests massive and expensive redundancy. But redundancy is a good thing, so that’s not really worth complaining about nor should it be eliminated.
Let’s say this then: we are less than 6 months away from 2006, when we will undoubtedly be living ‘in the future’. The past six years have had a sort of legendary character -first we ‘partied like it was 1999’, than we were living ‘in the year 2000’ and then we re-watched Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001’, enjoyed the palindromic character of 2002, and the past three years, (’03, ’04, ’05) have still seemed like an extension of the 1990s.
But now, everything is beginning to be different. While the belief amongst marketers is that ‘one should never launch a new product in August’ this past month has laid the foundations for the next ten to twenty years of common perception (at least in Canada) – a time frame which makes up the first quarter of the 21st Century.
The American nightly newscasters are all gone (Rather, Brokaw, Jennings), there’ve now been two natural disasters which remind us of our impotence in the face of natural forces, and Hollywood ain’t what it used to be, as the summer receipts show. Michael Ignatieff has gone from being an esoteric academic to being touted as the next Prime Minister (returning from Harvard to take up a post at U of T) – and if pigs fly in the next five years and that comes to pass, he’ll do so under Governor General Michaelle Jean. And the CBC has had a labour disruption, which threatens the broadcast schedule of new season of an updated version of hockey.
Like the guns of August 1914, it seems easy enough to ignore these developments at the moment, not yet conscious of the bigger picture, but let’s consider the following:
René Lévesque used to be a CBC personality in Quebec in the 1950s, until the 1959 68 day (two month) strike. The fact that the French CBC strike was allowed to go for so long embittered Lévesque toward Ottawa. He later said something to the effect that the English CBC would not have been allowed a two-month strike, and would have been forced to and end much sooner. The lengthy disruption in Quebec, in his opinion, showed how little English-dominated Ottawa cared about what happened in la belle province. And so Levesque went into politics ….
(As it is, only Jack Layton is demanding an immediate return of Parliament, and that’s to deal with this softwood-lumber, death of NAFTA thing. All those anti-globalization protests of the late 90s now seem like so much, ‘we told you so’. Ottawa clearly does not yet care about the CBC. Nor do I as I’ve mentioned do I – I mean, does anybody miss George Stroumboulopoulos’s show? … I can’t even remember what it’s called as I type this. So much for their efforts to win over my demographic).
So, point one – this lockout might have significant consequences. And in one way, it already has, since it’s forced podcasting to a new level. I’m not really on the podcasting bandwagon – I find it all rather pretentious. Everyone faking up a radio-like sounding thing and treating it as this new and great thing, and it’s only a trendy way to talk about an mp3 file, which have been around for what, eight years now?
I guess the difference is that mp3s have tipped past bootleg music because almost everyone in an urban core seems to have a fairly sophisticated computer and a high speed connection (and if they have a job they can afford an iPod to listen to their mp3 collection with).
You have radio stations like 102.1 CFNY The Edge offering Allan Cross’s The Ongoing History of New Music podcasts, and no, they aren’t the archived shows (which would be awesome), but some 1 minute clip, effectively acting as teaser advertising for the radio show. That is not worth a trend. Jumping on a downloading bandwagon and offering your readers/listeners irrelevant shit I find tries my patience – especially since one had to wait for the download to complete before being disappointed.
Via Tod Maffin’s site, cbcunplugged.com, we get to listen to phone messages. Oh boy. Nevertheless, this cat is out of the bag. While the content is rather lame, I’m excited by the fact that the employs have embraced the possibilities of this type of broadcasting. The upcoming CBC Unlocked will be something worth checking out.
It shows creative thinking that the management seems to lack, and it also seems like the type of thing which is allowed to happen because it’s unfiltered by office politics and bureaucracy and the like. Whatever happens at the CBC after this is all over, I hope they bring this back the mother corp.
(Which raises another thing: according to iTunes, the CBC3 podcast is number 1 in terms of popularity. It seems to be unaffected by the labour dispute. Why?)
Last week I listened to a couple of mp3 files from Australian radio of my favorite thinker, Mr. John R. Saul. He was on he tour promoting his globalization book, and he brought up his point that the economics of the past 25 years reminds him of 18th Century mercantilism. And so perhaps it follows that the bloging reminds me of the type of pamphleteering that helped spark the American and French Revolution. In those days, you wrote something, you went to a printer, and it was on the street in an hour. In the two centuries since, the middlemen of editors and marketers filled the offices of the publishing houses until reject letters became a writer’s rite of passage.
In his previous books, Saul likened the explosion of instant publishing in the 18th Century with a trend where a public of common people began trying to make themselves heard over the dominant voice of those in power. Post-modernism, inasmuch as it was the academic expression of trying to express what had remained unexpressed (because it had been put down by a dominant voice, in this case, the Modernist aesthetic and philosophical ideology) is nothing more than the first wave of people expressing themselves to those in power. (Ironic then how pomo has become noxious power itself). First radio and then television gave voice to the whole other segment of society which had been discriminated against by those who thought they were better than average. Jerry Springer’s infamous show isn’t so much a parade of ‘trash’ as it is a reminder of human variety, and especially of the need for adequate social and education programs.
Blogs and podcasting are continuations of this trend. As Saul wrote it, when things get too literary and language becomes too controlled by certain experts (whether post-modernist writers who can’t string a proper sentence together, or the rise in corporate ways of speaking so that every idea becomes inarticulate) there is a backlash, a corresponding balancing rise in the speech of everyday.
Humans are creatures of sound – and it is only with training that we become creatures of print. The rhythms of everyday speech will always seem more natural and be more effective at communicating than any purple prose from some show-off snob.
So I think blogs are great for that since their style is one that lends itself to being written as if it were spoken. I certainly think this way when I write – I’m confident enough in my ability to write well that I see no need to show off and am thankful to avoid the embarrassment of academic writing.
And now that a medium has come along which allows both text and voice files to be easily broadcast – we’re witnessing some kind of media utopia, and I remind you that utopia means ‘no place’ and the internet certainly has no place, and like the universe, having no centre, it is everywhere. Naming his perfect place utopia was a way of Thomas More to say that perfection is impossible, but perhaps that is true only when talking about material, human things, and not immaterial shadows of electricity.
For now we have a medium by which a locked-out staff at a national broadcaster can continue writing and speaking, and we now choose to download it and listen to it when we want. We are no longer forced to wait until their re-broadcast time or pay $20 if we want to hear it again. For one thing it’s shameful that the CBC last year stopped providing mp3 files of their shows; let’s hope this populism amongst their worker bees will break their outdated media models once and for all once everything gets back to normal.
And so, the last four months of the mid-decade year will be interesting times, as we watch a new status quo begin to develop. While the CBC lockout seems insignificant, it is part of a bigger picture that includes new hockey, new politics, new ways of speaking and listening to the masses, and new disasters that remind us of bigger pictures and long-term consequences. Whether or not the egos at the CBC return to their soapboxes anytime soon, our lives are way more interesting going into this autumn than they were a year ago. Hollywood may be complaining about a summer slump, and no wonder. It’s far more entertaining and engaging to simply pay attention to events.
I spent a week in Maine at the end of July, mostly reading fat books but breaking from that with some channel surfing now and then. The impression I got from my sampling of pure American television was that it is no wonder the Americans are seen to be stupid all over the world (even PBS looked dopey) and that I really missed both TVO and the CBC.
But, having come to see how great the CBC is, and how important it is to our television recipes, I can’t say I very much care about the current lockout. Because it’s August, and I see it as part of the vacation – the usual channels on radio and TV are whacked and so what? I can handle it. It’ll be over eventually.
I guess I’m just not facing the reality that it could go on and on like that hockey thing. Something has told me from the start that it has a 3 week timeline. This is week two – there’s another week to go and then I’ll get annoyed.
Craig Francis Power has written me a couple of letters from St. John’s, the latest deals with the latest controversy with The Rooms and Gordon Laurin’s firing.
Now, while the news channels today are creaming themselves about being able to devote another full day to the crumbs fed to them by the London police, we should remember that in the long run, visual culture and literature is where a society’s memory lies, and certainly not at the news desks of CBC and CNN, where, they tell us that today’s bombing occurred two weeks after the first round. No shit. I wasn’t born yesterday.
Goodreads began partially because of what I read by John Taylor Gatto in an autumn issue of Harper’s magazine a couple of years back:
After a long life, and thirty years in the public school trenches, I’ve concluded that genius is as common as dirt. We suppress our genius only because we haven’t yet figured out how to manage a population of educated men and women. The solution, I think, is simple and glorious. Let them manage themselves.
And that stayed with me. Then, last winter’s readings of John Ralston Saul drove the point home:
“There is no reason to believe that large parts of any population wish to reject learning or those who are learned. People want the best for their society and themselves. The extent to which a populace falls back on superstition or violence can be traced to the ignorance in which their elites have managed to keep them, the ill-treatment they have suffered and the despair into which a combination of ignorance and suffering have driven them. […] It’s not that everyone must understand everything; but those who are not experts must see that they are being dealt with openly and honestly; that they are part of the process of an integrated civilization. They will understand and participate to the best of their ability. If excluded they will treat the elites with an equal contempt”.
London Bombings
Bombers in London are suffering from a lack of imagination, by which they can’t relate to society at large. I’m reminded of something Mark Kingwell wrote ten years ago discussing crime statistics in the U.S. and noting that for some the conditions of poverty were so severe that going to jail was a step up, guaranteeing shelter and three meals a day. (Such motivations have also led many people into the military over the past couple of centuries as well).
One then begins to see that these suicide bombers are trying to escape their lives. And, as the media would like us to think – they all appear normal, aren’t in dire poverty. They always come across as a middle-class, albeit in some cases, lower middle class. Instead, we have a situation analogous to the suicides of Canada’s north, where the Inuit children, after years of sniffing gasoline for cheap and brain-destructive highs, are hanging or shooting themselves. We have a pretty good idea as to why those kids are self-destructive, and that is because ‘they have no culture’, the story being that the misguided intentions of a century ago to assimilate the native populations did terrible damage to their sense of self as a culture, and in effect, destroyed their imaginations. The imagination of themselves and their place in the world, in the grand scheme of things.
And so, I want to say that suicide bombers are suffering from a lack of imagination. That they are choosing to die, and to escape into the paradisiacal world (the only thing, one imagines, that has preoccupied their imagination for years) rather than continuing to live their dreary, industrialized, modernist, post-modernist, (or whatever other name we throw at it) lives.
Those of us who despise reality television and other aspects of pop culture choose do so because we feel that we have better things to occupy our imagination – great books, the art of contemporary galleries – ‘cinema’ as opposed to Hollywood blockbusters…. but if you’re a child of immigrants, and don’t identify either with your parents or fully with your peers, and instead your imagination is stimulated by religion …. it doesn’t seem to be so mysterious now does it, why these kids would do what they do.
We imagine ourselves, develop ambitions, or at least have plans for the future – next vacation and so forth. Imagining ourselves and our place in the world is terribly important in helping give us a sense of context, and in carrying out our daily activities. Our love for stories feeds this sense of imagination – and we feel more alive when our life is echoed in the imagination – it is a resonance chamber by which we build symphonies of meaning.
The Rooms
The tension in St. John’s is one of two imaginative visions: an elite version (which I suppose would be Laurin’s camp) and one down-home version (the CEO’s camp). Now, admittedly, I’m not in St. John’s and am only working with what I’ve read (today’s links) but let’s look at it according to Saul’s take on elitism. I believe, as does Saul, that people want what’s best. That only seems like common sense. Yes, the elites, and especially art-elites, do form a sort of tribe which treats people outside of it with an element of contempt. They think they are engaged in what’s best. They think that the lobster-trap craft folk are uneducated and misguided and have the blinders on towards ‘what’s best’. Hence, tension.
Ok, that being said, it does seem to me that Craig Power has a point where he writes, “Newfoundlanders have a reputation for being stupid, inbred and drunk. With the events of the past week and a half, is there any reason to wonder why?” having set it up by saying, “Wanda Mooney, a career government administrator, has been installed as interim director. … I don’t know what this woman’s knowledge of art history or contemporary art practice is, but I do know that if you Google her name, you find out that she used to be the woman you called if you wanted to rent space or book a reception at the old provincial gallery. How this qualifies her to run the gallery on even an interim basis, I don’t know, but I can hardly wait to see this visionary at work.”
Perhaps that’s unfair. But the point here is that according to the attitude among artists in St. John’s, the Board of Directors and CEO are suffering from a lack of imagination, one that in itself is contemptuous of the public at large. One that assumes tourists want to travel to foggy and cold St. John’s to see a bunch of folk-art crap, when they could be treated to the best of what contemporary culture has to offer.
But, the point I’m trying to make by bringing up London and my thoughts therein are that treating The Rooms with the contempt with which it has been treated, first by the Provincial Government, which kept it closed for a year, and now with Laurin’s dismissal, is stunting the imagination of Newfoundlanders, a place which so far has imagined itself as backward and victimized, and been rewarded by doing so by a Kevin Spacey movie. Laurin’s purported vision to give the citizens of St. John’s the quality of culture they deserve (that is, the best) and to resist mediocre crap, is admirable, and it’s unfortunate that another Maritime art scandal has resulted in the process. But here we also seem to be dealing with the backlash of ‘the excluded’ toward the elites (who have excluded by obscurantist writing and snotty attitudes for a century now) by treating them with ‘an equal contempt’.
Let’s just say that nobody has a monopoly on the imagination, but London also illustrates that it’s important to foster the best imaginations society has to offer.
I was at the MOCCA opening the other night (more on that later) and while there checked out the Dan Hughes show at Edward Day next door. To be absolutely honest, I was looking at the paintings while in the middle of introducing myself to a girl who turned out to be a painting student at OCAD, so we talked about it from the perspective of both being familiar with the medium. At one point I said, ‘these are too 17th Century for me,’ referring to their dark colour schemes. And I bring that up only to say straight away that the paintings weren’t absorbing 100% of my attention.
I’ve recently begun to paint again after not taking it that seriously over the past few years, and I’ve been going after this New Old Mastercism that Donald Kuspit began talking about 6 years ago. Dan Hughes’s show is just down the street from Mike Bayne’s, which just closed at Katherine Mulherin’s gallery, which I wrote about here and which mentioned Kuspit’s defence of superior craft ‘enhancing sight to produce insight’.
I’m afraid that the only immediate insight I got from Dan Hughes’s show is that varnish makes paintings very shiny. (That and what follows after a couple of days reflection …). My own recent experiences with practicing the craft of painting, in relation to rendering and toward the achievements of the Old Masters is that craft alone clearly isn’t enough.
I’m reminded of one of the more famous excerpted essays I’ve encountered reading art and literary criticism, in which R.G. Collingwood states in his 1938 book, The Principles of Art, (quoting Coleridge): ‘we know a man for a poet because he makes us poets’, as Collingwood explains, ‘the poet is a man who can solve for himself the problem of expressing it, whereas the audience can only express it when the poet has shown them how’.
Our everyday familiarity with language is enough to help us appreciate those who can use words well, and how a well turned phrase can unlock for us understanding not available by being inarticulate (hence my loathing of jargon based literary and art writing).
We don’t seem to share such a facility with images, especially crafted ones, since most of us don’t draw and paint, although most of us do take photographs. So someone like Dan Hughes, just because he can paint like that, means he gets a pass by default into a show. It also seems to mean that those who can’t draw and paint are awestruck at first impression by his ability, so much so that the impression is one of appreciation, and if they can afford it, the seduction of their chequebooks.
Some stuff, by what it represents, will grow in value – like Mike Bayne’s, whose images of today’s everyday will appear quaint in a century and will tie that time to ours, giving them a sense of where they came from. But Hughes’s images are already boring, and I’m uncertain as to how they could grow in value. Nothing represented is worth sharing, none of the images will help the future understand its past. Skulls, self-portraits, business men on stairs … been there done that and gave away the t-shirt. I don’t write this or what follows to be mean, nor to causally disregard it simply for the clichés that they are as much as I mean it as constructive criticism with hopes that Hughes will grow as an artist and that he can put his considerable skill to better use in the future.
And here I’ll acknowledge what these images must be all about: they’re studio exercises he’s trying to offload because he doesn’t want to store them somewhere. He must be thinking, ‘might as well sell them to someone who’d like to have it in their livingroom’ which is all fine and dandy, but let’s be clear about that.
I need to point out that the main thing that makes these images uninteresting is the dark colour scheme – like I said, it’s too 17th Century, when it was fashionable for paintings to be dark. There was a reason for that then, namely, the high cost of coloured pigments against the sort of mass production of images for people’s homes – for a while there, paintings were affordable for the masses. For his own reasons, Hughes has chosen to ignore the past 150 years of paint and pigment development. And part of this criticism also fits into my pet theory of Canadian painters being united via a coincidental (aka cultural) appreciation for bright pallets – something that would seem to have lots to with our being a northern latitude country. So, if he’d used bright colours, filled these paintings with light, taken advantage of the range of affordable pigments available to early 21st Century painters – then I imagine these images transformed, amazing, worth going to see.
As it is, we can do that ourselves with Photoshop. In that sense Hughes is accidentally at the cutting edge of what’s going in our culture at large. Recognizing that the form crafted in the studio (the painting as object) is ultimately only the first version and separable from the content (the image), which can be modified, and re-edited, manipulated, etc. One day, one of these images of one of these paintings will have its levels adjusted in Photoshop before being printed for a bedroom wall. And that is what it comes down to. He, nor the gallery, nor the buyer, have the final say of what these images are supposed to look like. Since they seem to be nothing more than an exercise, you wouldn’t really be re-writing their meaning because they don’t mean anything in the first place.
And hence the image I’m using to illustrate this entry – folded and torn, it’s the reproduced image of a rather large painting, once again reproduced here and modified by my use of it that evening to exchange email address and give out the address as to where we were all going afterward. It perhaps more than anything communicates what this show is all about to me – a decoration to daily life, a nice backdrop to find some common ground with a pretty stranger.
Dan Hughes at Edward Day Gallery until June 12th
(image of Dan Hughes’s invite after a night of email exchanges and note-taking)
Ah the isms, can’t live with ’em, can’t have good arguments without them. And for the past thirty years, we’ve seen a flourishing of isms, one that could almost be said to have sprung from the fertilized soil of the World War’s dead a generation prior. To some they were flowers, to others they have been weeds.
And JRS is one who’s seen them as weeds. I’ve come to find them somewhat noxious myself, which is one of the reasons that I’ve grown fond of his thinking, and over the winter I read most of his books. It is also for that reason that I was particularly excited when I learned in March that he had a new book coming out. There was also a geeky pleasure to know that with the publication of a new text he’d be speaking in Toronto at some point, which turned out to be sooner rather than later.
JRS spoke at U of T’s MacMillan Theatre a week ago now, which I eagerly attended and like the keener I am took a seat dead centre in the third row because lectures for me are more exciting than rock concerts.
Having received a review copy of The Collapse of Globalism a week and half before, I must say that I was only able to get half way through it before seeing JRS in person. The first half of the book traces the history of the globalist ideology, which swept through the governments of the Western world over the past 30 years (which is also equivalent to my lifetime). But, even JRS conceded while presenting an overview of his arguments, ‘what could be more boring than economics’. I tried to cram last week to get ready for the talk, but found myself easily distracted by such mundane activities as mowing the lawn, because it was sunny out and I didn’t want to be stuck inside reading boring economic history, albeit written with Saul’s wonderful style. There is also the element of extreme annoyance at seeing, in the black and white of the text, at how stupid the political leadership has been, those which Saul refers to as ‘elites’ in his indiviudal way (a sort of Saul glossary is available through his 1994 book, The Doubter’s Companion).
Near the end of his talk, Saul referenced the coming democratic crisis, noting that the political energy of a critical mass of people under 40 is going into NGOs and similar enterprises, seeking influence over political decisions, and noting how that’s all they can ever hope to accomplish. (He spoke at length on this in his inaugural Lafontiane-Bladwin speech five years ago, from which I excerpted the relevant portion for my Goodreads list). But, this follows from the globalist ideology, because as he noted, what better way to drive young people away from politics than to keep telling them they don’t have power, that the whole thing is run by corporations?
That’s been the story that I grew up with. It’s also one of the reasons I find someone like Saul so refreshing, because he’s part of that generation seduced by the neo-conservative economists who call themselves neo-liberal (liberal as in ‘free trade’ etc), and yet speaks for the other side; speaks in a way that gives me hope for a better tomorrow, as soon as my generation is given the power to change things. As a traitor to the ideology of his generation, I see Saul as a potential hero to the younger ones.
He’s certainly been my intellectual hero, as he’s attacked those who’ve who constructed another an ism to be a prism: the prism of economics to explain the rainbow variety of the world’s reality. Of course, it should be obvious of how much of this is nonsense. But we’ve lived under this reality because the political leadership essentially through up their hands and said, ‘it’s inevitable, we can’t do anything about it’.
Saul has particular loathing for that word, ‘inevitable’. It’s background was a little mysterious to me when I first heard him speak 7 years ago. He’s continually bitched in his books at how the political leadership was arguing that globalization was inevitable, and there was nothing they could do except jump on the bandwagon. He explained where this came from: the apparent root of this loathing which has spurned him on to write all these books over the past while.
While he was in Paris in the early 70s (during the time I presume in which he was working on his PHD thesis on the modernization of France and basking in his own hero-worship of De Gaulle) the then president of the country, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing came on television to announce (and I paraphrase Saul’s paraphrase here): ‘thank you very much for electing me, you’re all very smart to have done so since I know everything, and I’ve studied the problem, and concluded there’s nothing I can do about it.’ It’s worth quoting the relevant passage from the book:
“Giscard came to power in the midst of those seminal crises of oil, inflation, unemployment, and no growth. He counterattacked as a technocrat could and made no impact … Giscard became bewildered. Discouraged.
“Then one night he appeared on television to address the people. He told them that great global forces were at work. These were new forces. Forces of inevitability. Forces of economic interdependence. There was little a national government could do. He was powerless.
“This historic appearance was probably the original declaration of Globalization as a freestanding force escaping controls of all men. It was also the invention of the new leader: the manager as castrato. This approach created quite a fashion among leaders at all levels. The easy answer to the most difficult problems was increasingly to lament publicly that you were powerless. Impotent. That your large budgets, your public structures, the talents and determination of your population could make little difference. These were not problems to be solved. These were manifestations of the global reality.”
Here seems to be the roots of his argument against technocratic experts and impotent political leadership and throwing one’s hands up in the face of inevitability. The crisis was an economic one, simply a lack of imaginative thinking. Saul argued in the Unconscious Civilisation that since politicians had given up leadership in favour of management, all they could ever do is manage, they didn’t have what it takes to lead society with creative solutions. I guess this is where I got my fire burning toward civic engagement, and the lingering bitterness I have toward the artworld in which I’m immersed: because if artists are the ones society trains to be creative, they’re wasting everyone’s time with these installations.
Not that I’m advocating all artists go into politics (remembering the Hitler example, I don’t think that’s such a good idea for the most part) but he argued last week that we’re in a vacuum now. Since 9/11, the castrated politicians suddenly realise they have balls and are pulling the strings, but they come from a generation who went into politics with the understanding that they would be making concessions to corporations. Now that the situation has reversed itself, and corporations are showing no respect for community infrastructure, the governments don’t really know what to do. Hence, Ottawa for past six months.
I see that whole circus as the chickens coming home to roost: the consequences of what he spoke about in his Massey Lectures ten years ago. At the same time, he’s married to the head of the government, so the chicanerie doesn’t seem so bad, since Mom and Pop have good heads on their shoulders even though they aren’t really supposed to have any influence. (I have faith that everything will turn out fine because Saul has the ear of the GG).
Now I have to bring something up which bothered me about his argument,something he opened himself up to. It’s a case of illogic, for he stated that one can recognize an idealogue by how much they won’t even admit to potentially being wrong; to the idealogue, what they believe is simply ‘true’. This got some laughter from the audience, but from then on, I wanted him to address the ‘truth’ of his arguments. He’s got it pretty good right – married to the Governor General; and he gets to write books destined to be bestsellers, he gets to work out the thoughts via lectures delivered on the ribbon-cutting itinerary, and he draws a sell-out crowd of the city’s thoughtful citizens. He gets to preach to a choir, and those unlike myself who haven’t reached the level of the sychophantic I imagine are at least impressed by His Excellent resumé.
Which is all to say that JRS is enabled in promoting his own ideology. His own ism. This one is older than most, being the one called humanism. As I see myself most influenced by those set of ideas, and operating within that history myself, it follows that Saul’s ism arm me for great arguments, and are breath of fresh air in the sickly academic atmosphere of bullshit that I’ve associated in.
I first saw Saul speak at Kings College in Halifax in 1998, and I found it very influential. It’s perhaps one the reasons I’m writing this now, on a blog I mean, since the way he disparaged the elites then as ‘not doing their job’ (in the earlier books he speaks of Canada’s elites as being the laziest in the world) prompted me to believe in the power of the public intellectual. That ideas and art and all this stuff that I was studying at the time belonged to everybody, and that it was part of a civic duty to criticize bad ideas as much as it was a duty to vote and follow politics because it’s there that decisions are made that affect our lives.
His relentlessly fair approach as well, as mocking what is foolish, and conceding his own defects now and then, is one of the reasons I find his writing extraordinary and highly influential. The belief is that we’re all in this together. We all want what’s best. There are many forces of divisiveness that we need to overcome. Perhaps his basic argument is ‘pay attention’. In that way you become conscious, and can decide for yourself. That’s the essence of a democracy, people deciding their own future, rather than giving up in the face of inevitability. That way, we emerge from being an Unconscious Civilisation.
You have the choice to read this book or not. You have the choice to buy it in a small bookshop or in a Chapters. Of course you can see that I’ll recommend that you do, since I’m a fan an all. But I can say that a knowledge of the history of this ideology from his perspective is quiet valuable, and that Saul’s work as a whole functions in the ways that education is supposed to: it empowers you in your own choice making. It helps you become a better citizen, and by becoming a better citizen, the world becomes a better place. As for the lecture – as I type this, I have TVO’s Big Ideas on in the living room, and I have a feeling this lecture will be broadcast on Big Ideas sometime in the coming months, so you’ll have the chance to see it for yourselves.
You’ll see how he began the talk by telling us of how on May 19th, the City Council of Burlington rejected an application from Wal-Mart to build a centre there, even after all the experts (the evil technocrats of Saul’s cosmology) said it would be a good thing. Here, the ‘common’ men and women of the council said something to the effect that Wal-Mart may know how to lower prices but they know nothing of fostering communities. And here is Saul’s story over the past decade’s happy ending: the collapse of an ideology of markets, when the common citizens take back the power their ancestors won from aristocrats centuries ago, to be able to say no thanks.
Pierre Trudeau (1919.10.18 – 2000.09.28)
Canada’s greatest Prime Minister who began his political activity advising the abestos miners of their rights during the corrupt Duplesis regime, who went on to be a socratic gadfly toward the stulifying Duplesis status quo, and who became Prime Minister almost by accident. In his last term he insisted the country adopt a constition and bill of rights suitable for the contempoary era, and he travelled to the capitals of the world urging nuclear disarmement.
Jean Vanier (1928.09.10 – )
founded the Arches centres, which provide care for the disabled throughout Europe and North America
Charles Taylor (1931.11.05 – )
philosopher who has contributed to thoughts on authenticity and morality
David Suzuki (1936.03.24 – )
trained as a genetist, he’s used his position as a science broadcaster on the CBC to advocate for environmental responsilbilty
Louise Arbour (1947.02.10 – )
lawyer who served at on the war crimes tribunal at The Hague, the Supreme Court of Canada, and now is the UN Commionsner for Human Rights
Micheal Ignatieff (1947 – )
leading thinker about human rights and of the responsible uses of political power
John Ralston Saul (1947.06.19 – )
philosopher who argues against the downsides of the corporate and managerial mentality
Steven Pinker (1954.09.18 – )
Psychologist and cognitive scientist making contributions to a materialist understanding of the human mind, and able to communicate these achievements to a broad audience
James Gosling (1956.05.19 – )
programmer who developed the Java programming language which has been used on NASA probes
Malcolm Gladwell (1963 – )
writes articles for the New Yorker magazines which documents the history of popular culture.
Mark Kingwell (1963 – )
philosopher who is active in the media and who is able to communicate the complexity behind the gray areas of today’s issues
Rasmus Lerdorf (1968.11.22 – )
programmer who created the PHP scripting engine which is used throughout the internet for dynamic websites and database interfacing
Naomi Klein (1970 – )
reporter and activist for worker’s rights and for limiting corporate power
Cory Doctorow (1971.07.17 – )
novelist and activist for sensible copyright reform
Craig Kielburger (1983 – )
activist against the use of child labour in developing areas
This isn’t going to be a great review, only because I went out of curiosity. I haven’t read Don Quixote nor am I tempted to anytime soon. But that’s not to say that the event sucked or anything – I think if I was a Don Quixote fan I would have really liked it, but not being one, I feel that I should just be up-front about that, and I write about my experience for what it’s worth. This review is also marred by the fact that having not read it, I’m in danger of not knowing what I’m talking about, so keep that in mind. So, accept these tokens of ignorance caveat lector.
So why review it in the first place? Because I like that word – ‘re-view’. Because you missed it, and I was there, I can try to fill you in, paint a picture enabling you to ‘re-view’ it.
Of course, this reminds me of the presentation by Ellen Anderson who pointed out that the word ‘audience’ come from the same root as ‘auditory’ and how in Cervantes’s 17th Century, people talked about going to ‘hear a play’ while we say, we’re going to ‘see a movie’. The centuries then, divide themselves between listeners and spectators, and it makes me want to read Guy Dabord’s ‘Society of the Spectacle‘ which I haven’t done yet, but at least I’ll be able to tell people I was prompted to read it, and follow that curlicue of ideas after attending the Don Quixote Symposium in May 2005. So, what I’m saying here is – it wasn’t a wasted night, even if I was bored and didn’t stay for the whole thing. I did learn some things, and it caused me to have some thoughts, I feel they’re worth sharing.
Held at the Munk Centre last Wednesday evening, I show up near 6, when it’s advertised to start. I find everyone in the reception eating the usual hore-d’oeuvres. Did I miss it? Usually the grazing crowd follows the speeches. So, already I feel like they’re wasting my time, but whatever. Then the speeches begin with the usual…. I’m sorry, but something needs to be done about these introductions. Every recent lecture I’ve attended at universities in Toronto have been preceded by painfully long sycophantic introductions. It should become vogue for them to be short and humble, and free of the idea that we’ve been blessed by the presence of this important person. In this case, the important person wasn’t even alive – more words were said in the memory of a dead professor than the translator of the book they were selling in the foyer, the real guest of honour.
Mr. Professor’s name was Geoffrey Stag and he died last November. According to the dates give, he would have been 90 so it’s not like his death was tragic or anything. He had is run and shuffled off his mortal coil, but prior to that he’d retired in 1976, and taught Cervantes while he was at U of T. Not to seem callous but I don’t care. I doubt anyone cared, except of course for his daughter, who we were informed, was present. My point is I didn’t give up my evening for a memorial service for someone who’d worked in British Intelligence during World War II and then decided to come to the colonies to live out his life and his career. No disrespect intended, but I came for symposium on Don Quixote, which was published 400 years ago, a time span of which reminds us that our times here are petty, as are the works of those who spend their lives commenting on the achievements of others. I’ll grant the memorial aspect the respect that it deserves – which is small – but it also has a whiff of the celebrity about it, as if the beloved prof’s achievements were somehow on par with that of Cervantes’s (a point none would admit to, including the eulogizer Mr. Rupp, but a point that I feel stands given that actions speak louder than words).
Don Quixote has recently been translated by Edith Grossman who began the talks speaking about what it means to be a translator. Now, having French as a second language has meant that I’ve tried my hand at translation from time to time. At the moment I should be working on something I’m prepping for my reading group, but I’m intimidated by the two last chapters I need to get finished. So, I was surprised to find that what she spoke about resonated with me. She noted that being a translator is, by definition, self-effacing – one is supposed to disappear behind the intentions of the first author. She also noted that translation is not merely matching up words in a 1 to 1 relationship; doing so is a mark of a failed translator, and given the presence on the web of translation engines such as Babeflish, we are very much aware of what she’s talking about. She reminded us that translation is collaboration. She quoted Borges, who told his translator, ‘write what I intended to write, rather than what I wrote’. My own experience shows this to be a very challenging game, since you have to be careful about what you assume they meant: you don’t want to rewrite the book with your improvements, but also a translation is very much a version of an account, which is why her version competes for shelf space with John Rutherford’s.
The presentations, from my perspective at the back, were distracted by the CBC cinematographer, running about trying to get his angles so they can be edited together later for something. At the time I figured it’d be some 30 second clip on the 11 o’clock news, but as I type this maybe it’ll be for some Evan Solomon show on Newsworld.
Edith Grossman spoke first, followed by Ellen Anderson who spoke of Don Quixote’s relationship to 17th Century theatre, which seemed to imply that the novel came out of Cervantes work as a playwright. It’s narration and multitude of mini-stories the type of thing you’d get if you tried to describe a week of seeing plays to a gathering of friends at the pub. Because, and this didn’t come up, but it’s relevant, we should remember that literature in the centuries preceding our own was not only something read aloud to oneself, but also, read to the crowds who hadn’t learned to read.
Anderson was followed by Rachel Schmidt, who had a Power Point slide show, as her topic was on the ‘adventure of the visual image’, talking about how artists have illustrated Quixote over the centuries. There were a couple of things here worth noting: for one, slide shows are what make lectures fun, and I don’t have a problem with people using Power Point, and I understand that some people are still figuring out how to use the program seamlessly.
But, and this is the second thing, what drives me nuts about PP presentations is the shit design of the slides. There are like, how many different fonts on the average system? Please please please do not use Times New Roman. It is the most boring and visually banal font, its status as the default font means that its use shows a complete lack of imagination, a sense that you don’t care about the aesthetics of your presentation, that you think you can just give us the bare minimum and we’re so out of it that we won’t notice. Look, design is easy, just make it look like what you’re used to seeing everyday. That’s pretty much all there is to successful amateur design – make it look like a junkmail flyer. When’s the last time you saw a junkmail flyer that used a serif font? You know what I mean by serifs don’t you?
So besides the fact that I’m grumpy because I’ve been having a rough couple of months, I just feel the need to vent a little because it’s so systemic. You have this considered presentation on artists such as Doré, Dali, Goya, and Picasso who’ve illustrated scenes from Don Quixote, but you have this slide show which is aggravating to look at.
She connected a scene that Goya illustrated with his more famous Sleep of Reason image, but then got into the speculative diagnosis of trying to tell us that Goya encoded all this stuff into the Quixote engraving. She speculated that the fact the he drew the Quixote’s sword resting as if it were resting against the arm of a chair, an arm which isn’t there, had something to do with Quixote’s fevered fantasies, rather than what I would say, is because Goya saw no reason to be that detailed, and that the presence of the chair’s arm would distract from the overall composition. Basically, that the chair’s arm would have been graphically superfluous. Goya’s sketchy style with engravings is one of the reasons they’re so marvelous, because engraving isn’t something you’d think lends itself to sketchiness. And with sketches, you just want to summarize and hint, let the mind of the viewer fill in the missing details, work with illusions rather than meticulous detail.
As someone whose dashed off a couple of drawings now and then, I think I know what I’m talking about here, and I can tell you that back when I was in university, one of my friends referenced one of my drawings in a paper. It happens, right, this stuff is out there, and it provides an interpretive angle, so your work gets referenced in that way. I didn’t read what he actually wrote, but from what he told me it was clear that he’d used my image as a sort of inspiration toward these new ideas, based around the formula, “it’s like…”. And I tell you this because I don’t want anyone out there thinking that Goya actually intended what Ms. Schimdt told us. Sure, you can read the image that way, but I doubt that’s what Goya had in mind. Which doesn’t invalidate either – her argument or his image – but I wish the speculative and metaphorical aspects of interpretation where far more obvious rather than being presented as a great discovery by someone clever, swept up in the current fashion of seeing everything as a riddle. The world of texts and images are not Fermat theorems.
Ok, so that out of the way, I’ll say that she began her talk around the scene in the book where Don Quixote encounters monks carrying some paintings, and she talked about what those paintings meant in the context of the post-Protestant Reformation of Catholic Europe, elucidating the context that would have been familiar to the first readers. But I wasn’t that interested so that’s all I can say.
She was followed by Stephen Rupp, who finally took the podium as more than moderator, to talk on ‘having fun with the classics, Cervantes and Virgil’. He began by reiterating something that Grossman has raised, that Renaissance culture depended on translations, and began to talk about how the epic traditionally had always been written as poems. And then my mind began to wander. I was so dissatisfied with his academic puffery I’d zoned out to think about other things.
My notes from the event include the self-admonition, ‘be nice, be fair,’ because I don’t want Mr. Rupp to read this and feel insulted or humiliated. But at the same time, it’d be dishonest of me to bullshit my way through the part where I stopped paying attention. And that’s how I reacted, I was bored, and that seems worth telling as a critique of the evening’s effectiveness. Somewhere in between our experiences – his ebullient enthusiasm for the subject, combined with his feelings of self-confidence, his enjoyment of the day and of being the dean of his department – somewhere, in the space between the front of the room, and the back, where I shifted uncomfortably with my bum falling asleep, our minds clashed in peep of fireworks invisible and unheard, snowing boredom on the gray heads below.
He could not know of my recent extreme dissatisfaction with the ivory tower, which despite all critiques and attempts at humiliation – that is, to render humble – continues to be an ivory tower, a shelter in which people can nurture a sense of their self-importance, bask in their sense of celebrity and in the rapt attention of the naïve students jumping into crippling debt to sit there doodling, not to mention their comfortable salaries enabling them to indulge in luxury goods, while the rest of us contemplate going on welfare because we can’t find work in our fields.
No, in the face of such bias, there’s nothing he really could have done except maybe be as self-effacing as the whole task of translation demands. Because, in the end, isn’t this all a form of translation? Isn’t every educational enterprise about making something understandable, taking the subject to be learnt and expressing it in a language that can be grasped by the audience? But I’m not saying his (or any of the other’s) language was inaccessible – no, that was fine. I’m just annoyed by the showmanship.
But that’s not what I was thinking about during Rupp’s entertaining presentation, since other people in the audience seemed to enjoy it. I was thinking about how I’d like to have a pint at The Green Room and wondering if my friend would be willing to bike up to Bloor to join me. In the end she wasn’t up to it. Nevertheless I skipped the roundtable discussion that followed the break, since I was so bored I felt I’d just be torturing myself to stay, and I walked down Beverly St enjoying the evening of the early summer. As I walked, I did not have Don Quixote on my mind, because I’d simply been visiting a subject which so far hasn’t been of much interest.
So all in all, the event was cool but I wasn’t the ideal audience, my mind easily distracted by not having a grounding in fascination with the subject and my distaste for academic self-importance at the expense of what I consider to be something real and human. This review suffers from those biases and the fact that I didn’t even stay for the whole thing. I want to summarize by saying: if, like me, you were merely curious, you didn’t miss much. If, on the other hand, you are obsessed by Don Quixote, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you a better report.
Kelly Mark is everywhere right now – at YYZ, in the news because of the Glow House, and as well, she has a show on at Wynick Tuck. Last night I dreamt that I was in Wynick Tuck noticing that none of the Letraset drawings had sold, as if they were too new, too avant-garde (such a discredited idea anyway) but now as I find the memory was nothing more than a dream, it doesn’t seem important enough to fact check to see if any have. I didn’t notice the other day when I was in.
Although in my dream, it seemed a shame, because they are quite good. Looking at them I thought of Marcel Duchamp’s machinery in the Large Glass, mostly because I recently found this great website that demystifies Duchamp’s work, and last weekend I found this other website that offers animated graphics helping to explain biochemistry. The conversion of ADP into ATP, the basic molecule of cellular energy, reminded me of the animated Large Glass. My immidiate impression was that computers are so wonderful, allowing us to animate what Duchamp envisioned, and allowing us to see what our cells are doing everyday, processes that have been difficult to imagine before.
Kelly Mark’s work using Letraset seems to represent a dynamic dance and swirl of letters, moving across page and frame to frame. While the individual pieces can stand alone, they are arranged as polyptychs and the line around which the marks are organized flow from one panel to the other. There is a dynamic machinery here, and the fontography by its black and white and serifed nature reminds me of the early century’s dynamic steam machines, which inspired Duchamp to abandon paintings of traditional subject matter in favor of engineered renderings of choclate-grinders and the hormonal process of love as if mediated by particles of malic-molded matter.
In addition to these drawings, Mark, who perhaps is punning on her name with all this, has attempted to extend the idea of drawing by taking wooden forms of the usual pottery – vases, jugs, plates, etc, and covered them with graphite, giving them the nice dark gray sheen we’re familiar with from bored schoolday scribbling. As someone who likes to fool around with a pencil now and then, I couldn’t help but wonder if she just got some raw graphite at the store and used that, or if she laboriously went at the forms with pencils. Given the nature of Conceptual practice which tends to emphasize the execution of patience rather than skill, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark had used pencils. But again, such a detail seems minor to the finished product.
Given that contemporary pencils are a form of ceramic – the lead of pencils usually something like carbon mixed with a clay, these sculptures aren’t that far fetched … complimenting the traditional form which is made pure from clay, and replacing it with the veneer – in this case, the clay mixed with carbon and preserved with a matte varnish so that you can handle the works without dealing with smudging. Since the mid-19th Century invention of electroplating, which enabled the alchemistic goal of turning base metals into gold, there has been a long history now of coating crap with a sheen of special elements; Mark has extended this by coating a form that has lent itself to admiration with an element that has also lent itself to admiration when it falls together on a page into the light and shade of a scene, reversing the usual properties by using a veneer of ceramic on our other most malleable material, wood.
Kelly’s show at YYZ is on down the hall from Wynick Tuck. As a member of YYZ’s board of directors, I don’t feel like I should review it. Although I once reviewed a show there last January, I’ve decided that I won’t anymore. But I bring it up because of the odd coincidence of titles – Mark’s show at YYZ is called horror/suspense/romance/porn/kung-fu and consists of the recorded glow from the television which had been playing films of those genres. The show opened on April 8th, a Friday, and the next Wednesday, on April 13th, the latest show at the Art Gallery of York University (AGYU) opened with the title Horror, Science Fiction, Porn.
‘Tis the season of words it seems. For some reason the zeitgeist in our city has organized the curatorial and artistic minds into a season of alphabets. Mark’s letraset drawings tease out the inherent visual geometries of what we’ve taken for granted since we learned how to spell – that we manage to communicate, share thoughts, break hearts and win them, through designed lines.
A personal aside now – ’tis also the season of graduation, and the show at the AGYU reminded me of my own graduating April, after a rather lazy semester when I pretty much cruised to the last day … such was the nature of the school. But I’d signed up for an intro to video course for my last semester, because the previous summer I’d read Bill Viola’s book and it interested me in the medium that was everywhere but which I’d never before taken much formal interest in, focused as I was on drawing and painting.
In addition, I had a hard time with stories throughout school. I always have a case of writer’s block when I have to invent a narrative. So for my last project, for this Intro to Video class, I was stuck. But, as Charlie Kaufman knows well, an old trick is to use the present condition if you can’t make one up; so I ended up making a video on my writer’s block.
But what Viola had impressed on me was that the invention of film and video had been a sort of miracle which we long ago grew used to, forgetting that for all of time previous, that immense well of forgetting and flash, images had been static. As someone who went to school to learn painting, I had been interested in those static images, in that long history of capturing milliseconds of the universe in shapes. Television and film fools us into thinking we have peepholes into other rooms, other places, other times, all due to an optical and conceptual illusion.
My reawakened interest then was in the animated image and it gave me a new appreciation for the silent film. So my film was silent, relying on the animated image, and the narration provided by text.
Ok – so lets get back to alphabetics. I remember when David Carson was the hottest thing; Raygun seemed the coolest, most innovative magazine going in the mid-90s, at the time that I was self-consciously a student of all things cultural. Raygun sort of coincided with my first studies in Heidegger, and what was really fetching about Raygun’s ‘anti-design’ was its strained, blurred, hard to read text. Because of that, you paid much more attention to it. The seemlessness of the interface was interrupted, and you became conscious of text as a visual element.
William Gibson’s preface in the Raygun book, Out of Control (1997), pointed out that learning to read is something we spend a lot of time doing. We have to learn to use this technology over years, so that eventually it becomes something you can do unconsciously, at a glance, so much so that you can’t help but understand what the alphabet-symbols mean when printed across the chest or the ass of some girl, the mixed messages of reproductive genetics and advanced civilization combined in some petty advert for one’s alma matter or allegiance to social stereotype. Text becomes as easy to process as speech after a while, and we see past the geometry of the marks that make it up.
Which brings me to the second thing about text that’s worth mentioning – everytime I get into a conversation about how I’m an artist, the person I’m talking with usually dismiss their own attempts with, ‘oh, I can’t draw anything’. What I should say, instead of cringing and wanting to talk about anything but my ‘specialness’ because I can slap some paint around now and then, is that ‘if you can write your name you can draw’. We are forced into the repetitive exercises as children of drawing triangles and squares and circles, eventually forming the triangles of A’s and the line with curves of B’s etc until we can finally draw the simple shaped alphabet and eventually put them together into words.
So, this show at the AGYU isn’t so much one of ‘nothing to see here ‘cept a bunch of writing’, as it was a reminder for me of the shape of the letters, of the visual aspect and relationship to drawing that the written word has. It was also a reminder of my experience in artschool with video and text.
Now, what the writing in this show communicates I couldn’t really tell you, besides what’s made obvious by the title of the show. These three text based works come from the genres mentioned, but I didn’t bother to read everything. Overwhelmed by the overall message of the function of letters as symbols and drawings, I didn’t really care to read what appeared to be mostly uninteresting.
The title says it all – there’s a text of pornography, by Fiona Banner, writ large, in hot pink, ‘she grabed his cock,’ etc, and the world as become so pornofied through the internet, iMovie and relatively cheap video cameras I was bored and unmoved. In the same room was a shelf with books, ‘The Nam’ which showed off a nice design, one of the books being displayed on a plinth, the text of which being some Vietnam war story in the same blocky font used for the porn story, this time printed black and single sided.
The middle room was a little more interesting. This was the sci-fi part, but here the experience is of a projected 8mm film, consisting of nothing but the words of some contrived alien drama. The cohesion of the story is pulled apart by the projector being on a robotic armature, so that it projects the text across the walls of the gallery at different times, always moving. The animation of the projection is what I appreciated by this, and at this point I was reminded of my artschool video, where I had a line that read:
‘I wanted to move you with images
Soft, subtle, sublime
But you cannot be moved by images, only silent words’
Here, you get the attempt by the artist Rosa Barba to move you with moving words, which aren’t even silent, as we have to listen to the whir of the oldschool 8mm machine.
The back room had the ‘horror video’ by Nathalie Melikian, which again consisted of sentences that I didn’t bother to read, (I know – I’m a horrible critic) the horror aspect seemingly conveyed by the ominous soundtrack.
The PR for this show states: ‘ In conjunction with this year’s Images Festival [which is now over], the AGYU presents Fiona Banner, Rosa Barba, and Nathalie Melikian, artists who look at film but project it to another end–as film experienced through language, which is why the exhibition Horror, Science Fiction, Porn includes no actual films. This international group of artists – from Britain, Germany, and Canada – looks at language’s determinant conditioning and indeterminate effects through a variety of film genres. The conventions that establish a genre (right from the start with the writing of the script) and those that manipulate the spectator, are only partly at play in this examination as these artists relate the genres of science fiction, action, horror, and pornography to their constructions, technical apparatus, and reception.’
If the PR is the recipe for how we, the audience born yesterday, are supposed to respond, I think it’s a failure. If you check out this show, there’s no way you would respond according to this formula, but at least the language the AGYU is putting out is getting better (perhaps prompted by Jennifer McMackon’s blog which has been publicizing the ‘discombobulated PR’ you get from these institutions over the past year).
It’s text … on walls. And for the PR to say that it contains no films at all is dishonest, as the sci-fi piece uses 8mm, and the back room uses video, which admittedly isn’t film, but what’s the difference?
While film seems to be all about animating images, the use of film to project text in two of these peices blends the forms in ways that seem similar to Kelly Mark’s wooden ceramics. As for the porn piece, it seems nothing more profound than Playboy wallpaper. The most generous thing I can say about it is that it reminds me of the old double-entendre, ‘You wanna come upstairs to check out my prints?’
Kelly Mark at Wynick Tuck is on until April 30 and the show at YYZ is on until May 21, both at 401 Richmond St, and both galleries are closed Sundays and Mondays.
The AGYU show continues until June 12, at York University, Ross Building. Photos courtesy of the websites of Wynick Tuck and the AGYU.
The Crisis
Premise – 1. No one gives a shit about anything anymore. Is this true? What do people actually seem to care about?
Answer – When I say ‘people’ who do I mean? Have the generations become so stratified that one really should say:
a ‘what do old people care about’,
b ‘what do the middle aged care about?’
c ‘what do young people care about?’
d ‘what do teenagers care about?’
e ‘what do children care about?’
f ‘what do todlers care about?’
Notice how this is exactly the language of marketing research. And if you pay attention to trends, watch advertisements between the dramas and the laughs, and catch the pronouncements of the Marketeers when they make it into the news, you can answer each one.
a. What do old people care about?
Supposedly, old people care about health care. Access to medicine. The government is supposed to subsidize pills and make them easy to get a hold of. Old people are also supposed to be concerned with their retirement, and having their pensions and being able to enjoy their last years. They also supposedly have trouble getting in and out of the bathtub.
b. What do the middle aged care about?
Supposedly they care about sexual disfunction, and other medical conditions requiring the latest and greatest pill. New cars, home care, this generation seems to be the target of Canadian Tire ads for lawnmowers and power washers.
c. what do young people care about?
Supposedly, people within my age range care about bein’ kul. Too happenin to pay attention for very long, everything is zip wham flash – snappy headlines, snappy stories, George Stroumboulopoulos giving it to us straight by cutting out the fat. Dose!
Dude, I got to like get my concert tickets and shit, and I don’t watch TV because it’s stupid, and I can’t afford cable, and I don’t buy the paper cuz who cares? So how the fuck do you know what’s going on in the world?
I don’t cuz like, who cares?
-or-
I check out Reuters on the internet, drudgereport, watch The Daily Show …. So basically, the internet and The Daily Show is where you get your news?
Yeah.
-or-
I read the free weeklies
c. What do teenagers care about?
Apparently, teenagers have always been susceptible to vanity, self-esteem issues, and a desire to get laid. Apparently, adults have always thought this was terrible. The biological irony is that when they were teenagers, the same adults went through the same thing, only they grew up, learned why this was terrible etc – or at least that’s the old model.
Under the old model, the awfulness repeats itself and the parents are too inept at communication and memory that they give the kids a hard time, packing a suitcase full of issues for them to take into their young adulthood, and sabotaging their chances of having anything close to a fulfilling and sane relationship until they’re well into their 30s or 40s, if ever. Under the old model, the good parents can guide their kids through the process, so that they emerge mentally healthy at the end of it.
But under the New Model there are mother and daughter teams who prance around like they’re both 16. This creates the danger that the children think silly vanity is ok. I, however, imagine this scenario for that future: the horror of their botoxed parents shocks them into the awareness that unaging freakiness isn’t natural and that maybe nature’s got a good thing going with the whole ‘old folk dying to make way for the new’ thing. Eventually, the children of such people will realize this on their own and be embarrassed by the behavior of their parents who refused to grow up. (I’ve always found it more than a little weird how some people glorify immaturity since, by definition, maturity is when you’re at your prime, so why want to remain less than that? It’s like, everyone’s choosing to be ‘medium’ rather than ‘well done’. Perhaps it’s no accident that mediocre is so popular, the law of the distribution of averages withstanding).
d. What do children care about?
Apparently they can be reliably counted on to be fascinated with dinosaurs, and they like to play. Cartoons, and toys, and fanciful stories; sugar and spice and everything naughty and nice, this is what little people are made of. Especially sugar – candy fiends. Today, they are also inclined to care about weight loss.
e. What do toddlers care about?
I don’t know, learning to walk? Child development psychology is filling in those gaps for us, since no grown up alive seems able to remember their first few years outside of the womb. Probably because before we learned to speak, we had no way to organize our memories. I remember learning to spell my name one afternoon with a magic marker and a sheaf of paper, but I was past my toddler years by then.
So back to the problem – no one give a shit about anything. True or False?
T.
Because ‘no one’ doesn’t exist. Society no longer seems unified by anything except by the new language of demographics. Cultural identity is important, and people define themselves by their jobs. When you meet someone, you ask them what they do, looking to fill in the picture, looking for insight into what type of person they are. We all learn the dangers of stereotyping and prejudice, but all seem to have a feeling that a stockbroker is a different chap than a lawyer, and that the office copy girl’s life might be a bit more boring than a girl who introduces herself with the words, ‘I’m an actress’.
Interest groups, interest groups, interest groups everywhere!
So, a new question: is this a problem?
The Old School would answer that of course this is a problem. Everything is built out of the metanarratives – remember those? History, mythology, Jesus, Vitamin C …. there are problems in the world, we are citizens of a Western society, and further, citizens of a demographic nation! We have freedom of speech!
And the freedom to not give a shit.
I’m left thinking that the feeling of crisis that hangs in the air is only one under the Old Models. Under the new models, since no one cares, it’s nothing. People aren’t even paying attention. What’s the worst that could happen people ask? And what are the answers? No one can even come up with those, since everything seems to keep functioning.
Transit strike!
What transit strike, they came up with a last minute offer.
Election!
What election?
Do I really have to vote again?
Whatever, what does the government do?
As the Conservatives and the NDP keep reminding us – the Liberals haven’t done shit for 12 years and people with jobs still got their jobs, and people on welfare are still seen as poor suckers, and everywhere, Federal inaction has begun to give the impression that Ottawa isn’t necessary. They’re behind-the-scenes fellows … as long as the show keeps going on, no one thinks the stagehands are important, because razzle dazzle and …. wait, did I just see a celebrity in Yorkville? But that’s an old argument. Helicopters keep falling out of the sky because of Liberal inaction. And the broken promises, from getting rid of the GST on, it’s been Red Book dreams at election time, and the nightmare of policy review come afternoon.
Christ. I can’t help but say that the feeling of doom that I see hovering above the grave of John Paul II and the rest of the 20th Century’s cast of characters, is one exacerbated by my own dismal finances, and the irresponsibility of not even opening the bills that came in the mail because I didn’t have the money to pay them when they arrived. But now it’s all caught up with me and I’m dealing with it. I’ll get through it again; I’ll get through it for this week. I can say that a certain lack of courage of facing the problem then, because it seemed unsolvable, was out of a feeling that it’ll be solvable in the future, and in a sense that’s how it’s turned out, only the future came a little quicker than I expected. Anyway, I want to say that my behavior in this way mirrors that of the politicians and the leaders of our society. Focused on keeping the spinning machine from whirling out of control on a week by week basis – or, a quarter by quarter basis – they put off and juggle deadlines and ongoing problems. But eventually the chickens come home to roost. The Liberals are fucked because of everything John Ralston Saul warned us about ten years ago in The Unconscious Civilization. It’s all caught up to them.
The Prime Minister wanted to talk to the nation directly, because he doesn’t trust the filter of the media, and he thinks that he couldn’t do it through Parliament. Have you watched Parliament lately? There’s a call to order every few minutes. I don’t blame P.M. P.M. at all. I think it’s one of the few things he’s done that shows decisiveness. The fact that the media are all like, ‘it’s not a national crisis, what’s he thinking’ – all I can say is shame on them. The motherfuckers. They were spinning it as if the shows he was going to interrupt were a million time more important than mere politics.
Now, it’s easy to see the broadcasters as simply in the pockets of advertisers etc … of course they are … but I think what’s I found most bothersome was the visceral reaction – as if the fucking O.C. was suddenly sacred. The Globe and Mail – a print source, who is supposed to be competing with broadcasting! – took this line, printing a picture from the O.C. between politicians. Benedict the 16th – you interrupt the soap operas to show him waving to the crowd for the first time, sure – but our Prime Minister going head to head with Friends re-runs? Who does he think he is? The Pope?
Ok. Fine. I guess I have to accept that fact that whatever comes out of a Hollywood studio is in someways connected with the stringed beads and red threads of religion. Just have to face reality there. But I’m really embarrassed by a media so lacking in insight and imagination to equate speaking with your countrymen has only something you do in emergency. When actions speak louder than words, his action rose above the heckles of the Parliament and drowned out the talking heads and the Avid editors who’d have soundbited anything he’d said in Parliament to determinant of the message.
It almost makes me want to vote for the Liberals, if only Jack Layton wasn’t so damn sane and sensible. Honestly, why isn’t this guy running rings around the others? Oh, wait, I forget, because he doesn’t appeal to ‘the people’ as there are no people. Only demographics. I suppose I remain the overeducated, compassionate, bitchy demographic, which isn’t kul, and therefore, who cares what I think.
Of course, just because men and women are different does not mean that the differences are triggered by genes. People develop their talents and personalities in response to their social milieu, which can change rapidly. So some of today’s sex differences in cognition could be as culturally determined as sex differences in hair and clothing. But the belief, still popular among some academics (particularly outside the biological sciences), that children are born unisex and are molded into male and female roles by their parents and society is becoming less credible. [emphasis mine] Many sex differences are universal across cultures (the twentieth-century belief in sex-reversed tribes is as specious as the nineteenth-century belief in blood-deprived ovaries), and some are found in other primates. Men’s and women’s brains vary in numerous ways, including the receptors for sex hormones. Variations in these hormones, especially before birth, can exaggerate or minimize the typical male and female patterns in cognition and personality. Boys with defective genitals who are surgically feminized and raised as girls have been known to report feeling like they are trapped in the wrong body and to show characteristically male attitudes and interests. And a meta-analysis of 172 studies by psychologists Hugh Lytton and David Romney in 1991 found virtually no consistent difference in the way contemporary Americans socialize their sons and daughters. Regardless of whether it explains the gender disparity in science, the idea that some sex differences have biological roots cannot be dismissed as Neanderthal ignorance.
He goes on to say, after discusing the psychology of the taboo:
At some point in the history of the modern women’s movement, the belief that men and women are psychologically indistinguishable became sacred. The reasons are understandable: Women really had been held back by bogus claims of essential differences. Now anyone who so much as raises the question of innate sex differences is seen as “not getting it” when it comes to equality between the sexes. The tragedy is that this mentality of taboo needlessly puts a laudable cause on a collision course with the findings of science and the spirit of free inquiry.
Of course, this whole article has to do with the Larry Summers Affair over the winter.
Earlier in the week I dissed American intellectuals as largely all being lame, saying that the luminaries of thinking that populate American discourse tend to be Canadians working in American universities.
(Who are they you ask? Give yourself something to do and figure it out).
I forgot about Noam Chomsky. Chomsky doesn’t suffer from the mediocrity of the elites.
In his biography of Leonardo da Vinci, Charles Nicholls argues that Bramante’s depiction of the philosopher Heraclitus is actually a portrait of Leonardo, but that the sunken eyes and tears are an affectation, as Heraclitus was seen to be a despairing philosopher, associated with melancholy.And here is Harold Bloom, with his ‘woe is me’ pose. Is Bloom really fucked up, or just using the the ‘ I’m a despairing genius!’ affectation?
While Bloom often has great perspectives and interesting things to say, I can’t help but feel this melancholic bullshit is an affectation of ‘greatness’ which Bloom projects because he wants to be seen as part of some pantheon; in reality, to me it highlights a level of mediocrity.
What the fuck is up with ‘the mediocrity of elites?’ Especially American ones, who get paraded about as if their contributions to arts and letters is something rivaling that of those from centuries past? I can count on both hands the number of truly great thinkers and contributors to the humanities in the past 50 years, and all of them are Canadian. Wait, let me think … nope, can’t come up with American names. While these thinkers may currently work in the States, they were raised in the Canadian education system.
Bloom himself credits Northrop Frye has having influenced him.
I went into Downfall with a certain reluctance; I came out with a new understanding of the history of the 20th Century. That’s no small thing, and is one of the reasons that I agree with all the good press this movie has been getting. It was not only the best World War II movie I’d ever seen, but one of the best films in general.
I wanted to see it because I’m a student of history, and I’d heard that this was based on interviews conducted with Hitler’s secretary, who was in her 20s during the last two years of the war when she worked for him. Because of this, the story is centered around her character more so than the others; but the nature of the story means we get insight into the swirl of events and the poisonous personalities involved, huddled in the underground Bunker, listening to the thunderous rumbles as the approaching Russian army shells the city.
A few years ago I was at a great talk by the painter Tony Scherman, and in his presentation he brought up the fact that in our world, with TV all over the planet, chances are there is something on the Nazis playing 24 hours a day – that at this minute, somewhere, there’s a Nazi show on. He brought it up to point out the project of ‘never forgetting’ that seems to be behind it.
At the time I was struck by the fact that, you know, history is full of atrocity, and we tend to forget them. It also seems unfair that we privilege certain stories of atrocity while ignoring others. In addition, I’ve felt that we’re living in a totally different world, so why should we keep obsessing over this stuff?
Seeing Downfall helped me understand how traumatic the war was. It’s a cliché of criticism to say that we keep getting a sanitized version of war, even now when Speilberg made Saving Private Ryan and how he made sure to have that scene of a guy looking for his arm; but that film failed in the end to make me realize the trauma because it was such a sentimental story that fundamentally seemed to insult intelligence; but similar scenes involving amputation in Downfall may have made me flinch, but this was something they experienced and took for granted, so why should I feel put upon watching it, knowing in the end it’s makeup? But the difference here, is that Downfall is a true story, an accurate recreation, filmed in a way so that by the end, I was creeped out. As I should have been. The Nazis were seriously creepy folk, which is something that isn’t usually conveyed by documentaries or by cartoon villainy.
It helped me understand that the war was such a disruptive and psychologically unsettling event, something that was the result of centuries of events, all tumbled together and out of control, that movies like this are made (that the Nazi Entertainment Industry is founded on) simply trying to understand it. The sixty years which have past seems perhaps too short a time to fully grasp what happened.
At the same time, as the recent death of the Pope reminds me, we are entering a new understanding. Because John Paul II became a priest during the Nazi occupation of Poland, and that the Cold War which he is credited with doing much to end, was a result of the epilogue of the fall of Berlin to the Red Army.
I grew up going to gun shows with my father throughout the Maritimes and saw so many Nazi artifacts that I took them for granted, artifacts being sold to collectors who wanted a piece of history more than being of the neo-variety. Such a thing to this day cannot happen in Germany – you can’t publicly display anything from that era. So, there was some controversy when this movie came out last year in Germany, because this is a German film with big-name German actors. And that was one of the things that made this so compelling – to see a film in the language in which the events actually took place, and with the historical accuracy that memory of survivors would demand. This new period of World War II studies includes films such as this, made not so much to entertain, but to document and to understand.
I’m not going to say you should go see this movie – there are lots of understandable reasons why anyone would chose not to. All I’m going to say is that I doubt you’d regret it, and thus it is highly recommended.
Last year I had the pleasure of reading Steven Pinker’s The Blank Slate which argues against ideology and for the recognition of an innate and genetically endowed ‘human nature’. Among the areas he explored was our ability to intuitively grasp certain concepts, while others remain abstract.
An example is a googol. Nowadays, googol – as it is pronounced – is synonymous with the search engine, and is a verb (I googled this) and I even an adjective (it’s googable). Originally, the word refereed to a very large number. After thousand (three zeroes), million (six 0s), trillion (9 0s), going up the nomenclature line, you reach a googol, a 1 with one hundred zeroes.
A number so large falls into the category of being abstract, as we cannot even conceptualize a million properly, and a thousand with difficulty. Because in our evolutionary history, we hadn’t the need to distinguish that many things at a time. A herd of grazing animals was maybe the most living things any of our ancestors saw at once, as for most of history the animals outnumbered us, until practically yesterday in the measure of millennia. A herd of animals would have simply been “awesome lot”.
As a species we’ve preferred to invent reasons for our existence. Uncomfortable facing the banal facts, instead we have invested centuries with thoughts that have deluded us into believing in ghosts and spirits and ‘supermen’ in the sky. What we are neglecting, and what we also seem to be incapable of grasping intuitively, is that we are a part of the Universe, and that we are part of the Earth, itself a part of the Universe, and that we are the result of sex which occurred not only between our grandparents but between creatures which lived millions – and billions – of years ago.
We’ve clouded the matter with the poetry of religion, which may teach that we are animated dust, but which is also uncomfortable facing the banal facts of evolution, preferring instead to discredit it as a fantasy. Beyond that, we have to deal with folk who think that panspermia (life coming from some asteroid) would somehow be more amazing than the fact that it sprang up on this stone we call Earth on its own. The Earth, far from being so special, is just a rock fostering many chemical reactions enabled by the presence of a significant amount of oxidized hydrogen. So far that fact seems unique, but it is not unreasonable to think that the universe is teeming with life of a variety we cannot imagine.
At the end of one of the chapters in Pinker’s book, he quotes Ambrose Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary:
Mind, n. A mysterious form of matter secreted by the brain. Its chief activity consists in the endeavor to ascertain its own nature, the futility of the attempt being due to the fact that it had nothing but itself to know itself with.
This is an apt summary of what is so strange about our science. That our bodies are the instruments of our brains, by which a brain seeks to understand what it is. Although we are a system of organs and anatomy, it has taken centuries since the invention of the scalpel for us to figure out what we look like on the inside, and even what our brains look like. Accurate anatomy dates to within the past four hundred years, and extremely precise anatomy dates to the 19th Century. And mostly because we deluded ourselves with religious hoopla, afraid that dissecting a corpse would make It and Superman mad.
The brain is an organ capable of processing information revealing it’s own structure, of it which it knows nothing. I find it odd how we are born “knowing” how to use our hands, but not how they function. This seems to be a pattern repeated by the universe at large. The brain’s inherent ignorance about itself is a microcosmic reflection of a Universe which seems to know nothing of itself either. We think this way because we have labeled the universe a thing and as such, consider it inanimate, lifeless, and incapable of thought. However, what is going on between you and I right now except some sub-process of the Universe?
The last time you glanced at Astronomy magazine on the news-shelf, or read an article on cosmology, you participated in an aspect of the Universe seeking knowledge about itself, as it has agents within it seeking that information.
We are those agents – we are the organizers of the Universe’s information, and in many ways, agents for its change. For some reason, the chain of events which began with a big bang 13.7 billion years ago has led to reassembly of elements which have propelled themselves with precision across the vastness of space to land on Mars . The 3rd sphere seeks out information on the 4th sphere by way of beings which developed out of its matrix of chemicals a few billion years ago.
So, we have this recurring pattern: the universe organizing information, by way of humans, who do it by way of their brains. And now these brains have developed a new layer in the Universe’s information structure by organizing things using alternating currents of electricity. We are all told by those who developed this technology that the computer is a digital device which runs on a series of 0s and 1s, which represent on/off switches in the micro-circuitry. What this means is that the chips alternate the voltage between high and low. Electronic whispering is precisely that which allows me to type this and for you to read it. And to point out the obvious, my thoughts interact with your thoughts through this negotiation.
Now we have Google, a search engine, seeking to “organize the world’s information” to paraphrase their PR. We cannot know if the Googlebots are conscious, but let’s ask ourselves hypothetically, “what do they think they’re doing?” Do you think they are themselves curious as to why they are compelled to extend themselves through the branches of our communication network? Are they aware that they are a part of another being’s infrastructure? They go here, go there, go back to the Google servers, and collaborate on constructing a database. So much like ourselves and our travel stories and our maps. Essentially, the meaning of a google-bot’s life is to crawl the web and experience it so that it can later be organized – categorized, filed away, assigned i.d. Sound at all familiar?
Sounds like Victorian science to me. Darwin and the Beagle and the trip to the Galapagos, and the return home to the centre of the colonial empire to say, I saw this, and I think this about it and this is the book for the database, no, I mean library.
The flowering of life on Earth may be nothing more than some form of reflection of the masses of files we find on our hardrives. The zebra may be a .dll for something – a segment of code which enables another. We are a program running on the Earth’s Operating System, an .exe file enabled by .dll’s in the flavour of plants and animals by which we manifest an omnivorous nature.
Somehow our chemical composition – the fact that we are made of stuff – does not invalidate our activities, which we have recreated in the immaterial. By organizing electrons we have bypassed the molecular to achieve physical results which resemble our own activities.
Our relationship to the immaterial raises issues of the google-bot’s metaphysics. Do the engineers at Google program their algorithms to send prophet algorithms among them to inspire them to poetry and more accurate results?
Soloman Fagan’s article on the Canada Council controversy is the clearest and sanest I’ve yet read, raising pertinent points. If I’d been able to read this back in November instead of a bunch of alarmist rhetoric and petitions, I’d probably have been more comfortable on the artist’s side than on the Canada Council’s.
I know of two other people who agree with me that the changes aren’t that bad, and we all agree that the Council rocking the boat here is a good thing – shaking up this lame scene. I’ve found myself on the C.C.’s side because basically I find the council’s programs as they are now suck and aren’t worth saving.
Fagan lays it out for us (again finally) clear-as-day as to why they’re gonna suck even more now. I’m left thinking the Council is driving itself to irrelevancy. Since I have friends who are either about to graduate, or who are recent art school grads, they already don’t care about this because they’re ineligible for Council funding for the next few years anyway. And I since I’ve only been able to apply myself for the past couple of years, I’ve developed no loyalty for their programs. I’d like to think that Canadian art is capable of sustaining itself without the beneficence of one institution. If it is not, than we should ask ourselves why, and ask ourselves what are we gonna do about it.
The most obvious point here, is that with a success rate of less than 10%, the Canada Council clearly isn’t that important. There are city and provincial arts councils, whose programs for emerging artists are easier to access, and artists find ways to make their work if it matters to them. Ninety percent clearly already don’t need to the Canada Council, so why aren’t we more honest to say that this is about nostalgia and prestige? Nostalgia from a generation who once benefited from what was once a generous endowment (one that rose from 3 million in 1965 to 24 million in 1975 – a difference of 686% – while the current budget, at 150 million, represents a rise of 652% in the last 30 years – 30%less) and prestige among those who actually pass the jury system, driving home and developing another level of unhealthy elitism in an already pretty elite bunch.
The larger discussion that Fagan raises is to why someone like Janet Cardiff is an example to them, when she isn’t even living in Canada anymore. Why is Canadian art defined as a success when someone else outside of Canada cares about it? Why do we want to play a game of wasting big bucks on megalomaniac works? Hell, if wasting money on mega-projects is what it’s about now, I’d probably support shutting down the Canada Council to put their funding into health care or the child care program.
The issue here, I think, isn’t that they’re gonna be screwing emerging artists – they already are – but that they want to support a fashion of big-budget art that probably isn’t worth supporting.
Ultimately, what I’d like to see is the Canada Council have enough money to subsidise all artists in Canada. This is something that the country can afford – you’d need less than 1 Billion dollars and the government has been running multi-billion dollar surpluses for years now. Stop working with funds that haven’t kept up with inflation, stop having to limit its support to people who are playing the game as defined by the American-European order, and to focus on supporting artists who want to live in Canada, and who want to develop a Canadian discourse.
I read all this stuff and I feel screwed not only by the Canada Council, but I feel screwed by the art establishment that gushes over the work of Cardiff.
I use her as an example because she’s who Fagan mentions, although her work isn’t as big-budget as some. Her work is worth sharing with the world, and she got famous for her audio-walks, which aren’t big budget at all.
But if it’s now about funneling money into mega-art, I have to say that I have no love for this stuff, nor do I have any love for the ‘international game’. Personally, I don’t give a fuck about the Venice Biennial. I don’t see why I should.
I used to question, well, if biennials are the game, why doesn’t Halifax start one? That was back when I was living there – and I think they tried to get one off the ground in 2000 but it didn’t quite work out. Not enough money etc.
Artists here keep chasing after the ribbons of wealthy collectors whose taste is dependent on Parkett and the biennials, because only the wealthy collectors are willing to transfer some of their funds into the hands of our country’s cultural workers. And, if it’s not the wealthy collector, it’s the MOMA, Tate, McGuggenheim, the Getty. The cultural institutions of the Anglo-American Empire. As Robert Enright said about the work of Attila Richard Lukacs:
The side of his career in which he was sort of let down – and this is because he didn’t have dealers who were powerful enough largely, was that he never got integrated into that public collecting art world. Once you’re in the collections of the Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney museum, the Museum of Modern Art in Los Angeles – once those guys are collecting you, in a sense they can’t afford to divest their interest in you because now you’re a part of American art history. So then once collected, forever collected basically. If you don’t do that, you’re selling lots of paintings and you’re making lots of money because collectors are buying your work in Canada and in Germany, but if you don’t have a dealer whose helping you manage your career, all you’re gonna do is sell paintings, and that’s not enough, because once people stop buying, and you’re not in the major public institutions, frankly, who gives a damn about you?
For Robert Enright to say this, to lay it out that simply, is to basically point out the truth about being a Canadian artist – we are a province of the American Empire, as populous in total as California, and that culturally, we are as American as Americans. Ok. Fine. If that’s the way it is, we should start applying to the N.E.A. All of Sheila Cops’ fucking flags and magazine wars to the contrary, there is no home-grown Canadian culture anymore. We’re assimilated. No wonder we get so upset about the Bush administration.
The Canada Council was developed to prevent that assessment. I suspect it is still wrong. There is a Canadian experience that differs from that of the United States. The Canada Council was developed to support Canadian artists and Canadian art, and to help us find out what that difference is. At least that’s how I understand it, especially when I read the Massey Report.
Set up in 1957, it was there to give us a voice different from Jackson Pollock’s and that whole American game they played of associating culture with anti-Communist foreign policy. And what happened? Isn’t fair to say they supported Jack Bush all the way to a New York dealer?
As it says here, giving a brief two sentence CV of Bush – “Senior Canada Council Grant for European and U.S.A. Study, 1962.”
So what is the mission of the Canada Council then? Is it to support Canadian artists in becoming art stars, leaving the country as a type of foreign service cultural ambassador?
Is that what’s art’s about then? National and cultural propaganda, because we’re still stuck in not only the court of Louis XIV, but in the Cold War?
If that’s what the Canada Council’s about, why hasn’t someone woken them up to the reality that in our globalized world, a national identity is important in order to distinguish one’s voice against the chorus?
I imagine this is what they hope to do – support voices loud enough to yell with the best of them at the international biennial megaphone, while forgetting that they are, and have been, doing a lousy job of helping Canada find that voice.
If the art world is one big American Idol, the role of the Canada Council seems to be a Simon Cowell figure – to tell some singers they suck, and to help those that can sing find themselves in the positions they deserve to be in. That seems to be how they justify their 8% success rate, and their desire to support the big names that are playing now.
If the artworld is American Idol, it should be reminded that art isn’t supposed to be about fashion. It could be reminded of this if Canadian Artists were good enough in spite of this international system. I think what we all hope for is that the rest of the world would take notice and say to themselves, ‘wow, look what they’re doing in Canada’. The Seattle Grunge music phenom was best summed up when I read this years ago – ‘when there’s no possibility of success, there’s no possibility of failure’. We should feel free here to do whatever, instead of chasing international validation. Expressing our reality in a vibrant way, which would result in success by default. I mean definition of sucess here is to have people from elsewhere think what we’re doing is amazing, in a way that would drive them to come here and visit our galleries.
All of Canada’s ‘successful’ artists, who don’t live in Canada anymore, or who aren’t taken seriously at home – have made work that goes against being merely trendy, and something that was unique, and whose example help younger people understand a Canadian experience.
But the question remains. Do we really need the Canada Council?
Today, a fellow on trial for rape in Atlanta grabbed the guard’s gun and shot his way out of the courtroom, killing three people. What a week for craziness! Let’s recap:
Thursday, March 3: 4 RCMP officers are killed by a nut with a rifle. The media treat this like it’s the end of Canada. The mourn-porn continues with a rebroadcast of the memorial tomorrow.
Sunday, March 6 : This evening, a man throws his daughter off a 401 overpass in an attempt to murder her, and then he jumps off and kills himself.
Tuesday, March 8: the police stop a guy with a knife on Yonge St. There is video footage, so it gets on the news. Oh, so dramatic.
Wednesday, March 9: a fellow sets himself on fire in front of Queen’s Park, after ramming some cop cars with the rented Budget van. Budget gets free advertising as the whole thing is captured on camera, because there was an farmer’s protest at Queens Park at the time. The nut didn’t know that, crashed the party, and stole the show. The farmers bitched about it.
Today, March 11: the fellow in Atlanta, and JetsGo discount airlines go belly up and strand all their potential passengers, laying off their entire workforce.
Something is happening at large, some kind of doom is prepping itself, and the shit is hitting the fan. My favorite though is this guy shooting himself out of courtroom as if he was Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger. I’m sure the Hollywood hacks are already at their keyboards prepping the drafts of that one.
On another note, today’s email from Joey Comeau asked, ‘have you seen the trailer for A Scanner Darkly yet?’ I hadn’t, so I checked it out here. Wow, 2005 – the year of the animated painting. There’s something massive right there – that we’re at the point to pull off something like that.
This image of Winnoa Ryder has a very limited palette. My self-portrait, that I made in Photoshop at the end of 2002 and now use as a logo – it was hard to reduce that to a simple palette. When I do the images today – well, I haven’t in a long while – but when I do, I try to sample the image’s colour, and just make it more blocky, and homogenize a section. A Scanner Darkly is a masterpiece of drawing, colouring, and of digitization. I’m looking forward to seeing it when it comes out in September.
To be able to essentially make a movie that is pretty much nothing more than an animated painting – and this isn’t like that movie Linklater made in 2001 that gave me a headache to watch – that says something to Danto’s ideas about the ‘End of Art’.
MediaScout can’t help look at the events of the past week through the prism of Canada’s near-obsession with understanding and building its sense of identity. Simply put, stories of sacrifice are the backbone of any national myth. Lives lost in the defense of values held dear bring nations together like nothing else – just look to the US, where amid bitter divisions over the war in Iraq, no Democrat would question the value of US soldiers’ sacrifice. Canada, however, doesn’t fight a war every couple of years. And when we do stand on guard for thee, we take every possible precaution to keep our men and women out of the line of fire. That’s fine, we’re not a warring people, but it does mean less death-less sacrifice, when those are the stories that define a nation’s sense of purpose. And so, when four young Mounties are taken from us so brutally, we feel it; because we are reminded of what sacrifice means; and we get to know the fallen; and we come to realize just how brave they were in simply doing their job.
Reminds me of the way Robert Thurman summarized western civilization as militaristic. Like the story that Canadian identity was born during World War I, because the joe from Alberta was in the muck with the fellow from Quebec. What’s really behind that story is people got to hang out with one another from all over the country. Kind of like these party conventions that are in the news.
I’d prefer a national myth that focuses on dialogue, rather than fucking heroic-death sacrifice bullshit.
I’d prefer that we don’t build an identity around violence. Sure, have your big national funeral and media coverage. But I have to say that I care less about this than I did about Trudeau’s funeral. I felt like I was living through something then, I could understand the line-ups to see him lie in state. This RCMP thing isn’t something I can relate too as easily.
Jennifer McMackon’s been running submitted questionnaires (mine can be found here, running previous to the that post) and last weekend she posted questions by Andy Paterson. In one, he asked a question about Post-Modernism, and in my reply, I brought up John Ralston Saul as I have been susceptible to do lately. So, ‘Cynth’ posts: ‘ oh great more john ralston saul quotes’ and I reply, ‘ I know – I rely on him too much. But, at least it’s not Foucault, Derrida, Barthes, Lacan, or Baudrillard’. And then Cynth writes, quoting me at first,
‘”I like the way that John Ralston Saul wrote a dictionary as a parody (sic), but also as a glossary to his way of thinking, basically pointing out that dictionaries are matters of opinion, and that we’re in a foolish place when we turn to them to find out if words actually exist.”sort of like Umberto Eco’s Name of the Rose?
Ralston Saul’s work depends on semiotics no? Could we really have his train of thought outside that discourse? Or where do you think it came from?
So I got back to her tonight with this:
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I wouldn’t say that Ralston Saul depends on semiotics at all. I wouldn’t think to compare him to Eco. The Doubter’s Companion is not at all like Eco’s Name of the Rose. I mentioned Saul and Eco together only once, and that was to use the monks debating Christ’s poverty in the Name as an example of how Saul sees contemporary academia, where you have a lot of energy going into debating the finer points of nothing really, when instead they should be engaged in their society, combating the corporations instead of working for them, and using their tenured positions to be fearless in criticism rather than intellectually lazy.
Saul identifies as an old-fashioned humanist trying to get us to fight the sort of dead corporate language that’s everywhere, and pay more attention to politics. He’s also doing his darndest to try and get Canadians to consider what that means, to be a Canadian.
While the question of Curnoe-like nationalism doesn’t have any steam today, Canadians do have something unique that we need a language to think about, so that we can be conscious of it, because as I see it now, we’ve spent too many years longing for the sort of life that New York artists potentially have, if they manage to make it, because we watch too many American television shows, read too many of their magazines, know too much about their celebrities that we forget that we’re not American. So we get upset at their politics, when we should be getting upset about our own, and we try to define our culture around terms that were developed to serve American-Anglo art. As Curnoe wrote in 1970: ‘Clearly people from the most powerful nation in the world can afford to say that art is international because it is their art & culture which is international right now, e.g. Viet Nam’.
e.g. Iraq … and 35 years later, we have all of these artists being pumped out of art schools, and we have this artist-run centre system and all this; but it is work being created by Canadians in American-drag. How is what we’re seeing different from the dominant discourse, or even allowed to be? Why aren’t we trying to define it our own way, instead of borrowing ‘theirs’? (Or are we, and I’m just not aware of it)?
I really like Saul because he’s tried to give us a language to think about these things, and his dictionary is essentially a glossary to his idiosyncratic way of using words.
I think that a lot of the so-called problems that we face as artists might really boil down to us not having this language. The Canada Council thing, the lack of a market – perhaps it’s because by engaging in culture in American terms we aren’t registering with the public because we offer nothing to them. We get all upset and depressed and think the public doesn’t give a shit, and use self-righteous anti-market language, when in reality, we should want to practice our profession and live a middle-class lifestyle. Why would we chose poverty? Why should that be a choice? I understand choosing to live a simple Green lifestyle, but that need not be one of abject poverty.
I mean Canada is this amazing place full of different nationalities and people from everywhere in the world, so on one hand, we’re too focused on providing art for one group, in addition, we aren’t speaking a Canadian language the people understand unconsciously like they do hockey or Tim Hortons. Maybe this alone accounts for the popularity of the Tragically Hip and the Group of 7 – because we perceive that Americans don’t give a shit about them, we appreciate them as belonging to us. At least, that’s the popular idea.
My reservations toward metro cops comes from growing up with the RCMP as the local police force. The RCMP were cool – they knew the community, knew when to look the other way, but knew how to be tough when it was required. Metro cops see crazy shit every day and that would put anyone on edge. I tend to think they’re all borderline crazy because of that. There are also those among them that failed to pass the RCMP’s high standards.
In the overblown media coverage though, no one has pointed out how unique a country we are where 4 deaths is a ‘national tragedy’. And the grow ops thing – heck even my dad sees the similarities between this type of gunslinger madness and that of the dirty 30’s prohibition.
Which also reminds me of Darren O’Donnell’s concerns about the incarceration rates of the United States, which he brings up in his play, A Suicide Site Guide to the City. The United States today puts a greater percentage of its citizens in jails than any other country in the world. A majority of these are drug charges, and most of the people in jail are black. Forget everything you think you know about why that is and consider this –
Naomi Klein, speaking on the aftereffects of the Iraq War (broadcast on November 1st last year on Ideas, Real Player File) defined fundamentalism as an ardent desire to see the world work according to your rules. So Christians and Muslims and ideologues of all stripes are basically trying to convince us all to live by their definition of reality, and when that doesn’t work, they get all self-righteous and angry. Most of us aren’t ideologues, most of us know that life doesn’t work by rules. There are accidents, we stub our toes, we don’t always behave in ways we’d like to. That’s what makes life interesting. That type of variation is a good thing.
The U.S. though, has a government of fundamentalists and ideologues. Instead of recognizing that human beings have an appetite for mind-altering substances – harmless really – they prefer to think that the world is out of kilter because people want to have a mind-altering experience every once and awhile, one that is different than getting drunk. They tried to ban that in the 1930s and all we got out of it was the legend of Eliot Ness and some good movies.
At least the Ministers in our country and waking up this reality, albeit at a glacial pace. They should legalize it, regulate it, and tax it. They should treat all drugs like they do alcohol. In the case of some of the more powerful narcotics, like cocaine, heroin, crystal meth – I agree that those are dangerous but banning them is not an answer. I question why anyone would want to use addictive substances – and I see that as a medical problem. I guess for me, the best argument to regulate drugs is to bring it into the open, to not criminally penalize people who are in many ways self-medicating. People use coke to get more work done, to stay up. Well, I’m sure there are safer stimulants out there, and if not, than get it from a clinic. Heroin – I’d basically give that to clinics to distribute to those already addicted, giving them a non-judgmental and safe place to ingest it, but also, a place where they can always decide to give it up by perhaps walking into a hallway’s different door in a environment they already feel secure in. Anyone who wants to try it could do so in a safe environment, after being strongly encouraged not to do so. And that’s important – because as long as you create a condition of ‘no’, you’re opening up someone’s else’s opportunity to say ‘yes’. You have to in principle create the conditions for experimentation so that people go to the places where they can be educated, discouraged, but in the end, can go ahead with it if they’re so determined (who knows, they might be doing legitimate research) instead of finding some sketchy drug den full of unsanitary conditions and other dangers.
So, getting back to the fact that lots of black people are in American jails. I’ve made the point that the war on drugs is a delusional war against a problem that doesn’t need to be a problem. Now, the fact that the black minorities are poor creates the conditions for them to act violently. I don’t want to say that they sell drugs to get money or use drugs to forget about their problems – while that exists of course, there’s a lot of murderers in jail too. It’s a clich?? to say that a majority of black people are on death row, perhaps unfairly because they can’t hire good lawyers as could O.J. Simpson.
Which is too say what – that you deserve to go free if you can afford brilliant legal defence? No – that anyone deserves to go free if your court appointed attorney is compotent enough to prove a case of police incompotence. Again, poverty screws you over, because the best in the United States work for big bucks.
It would be too simple for me to say that it’s a matter of those in power, who want everyone to be like them, to see things their way, be assimilated to their lifestyle – it’s too simple to say that a lack of respect for a minority’s culture is what drives those of them and everyone else to be violent, or is what ‘criminalizes’ them in the minds of those in power.
I’ve made the argument that as long as you have narrow rules, you’ll always have people falling outside those rules. With regard to drugs – that’s why the U.S. incarceration rate is at the rate it is. But, eliminate that, and you’d still have the problem of violence in all its forms.
Violence is found everywhere in American society, in every ethnicity, and as Steven Pinker argued in The Blank Slate is much more connected to status struggles. That basically when you’re poor, and you don’t have much but your honor, than your honor is worth defending by killing others. Developing a reputation for being dangerous is advantageous, because it prevents others from abusing you. Maybe I’m too privileged to say that the inner-city problems that are common and clich?? are a result of a bunch of defensive offense. Break that cycle, and things could change. We’re tempted to think that incarceration rates would then be reasonable. Is incarcerating anyone ever reasonable?
I think we need to accept that nature’s capacity for variation gives us humans with different types of minds, some of them autistic, and some of them psychopaths without empathy. In the past, the psychopaths could always be relied on to kill the competition over the hill, you know, the type of tribal warfare that encouraged the whole raping and pillaging and the stealing of women thing that has been a part of our experience. No point getting all upset about it and saying all men are bad and all that. To do so would be to start subscribing to another fundamentalist definition of reality. It’s just a fact that we have a violent history, and that humans have had a tendency to war and to war crimes, and that the majority of those actors are male. (That’s got more to do with the whole upper body strength thing, and the status arguments I’ve outlined – because men are more susceptible to them genetically as primates. What I call the ‘gray-back thing’ – gray backs being alpha male gorillas). We find this disgusting, and we are privileged to do so, because nowadays, we are increasingly moving away from the glorification of violence, but we certainly aren’t there yet. We’re at the point where we appreciate fictional violence, but are horrified by it in reality.
We want to segregate the psychopaths by putting them in jail. We should recognize that as temporary solution. If we accept the fact that psychopaths are just part of the variation of humans, it is no more fair to segregate them as it would be to do so with dwarves, transsexuals, or those born with what are considered to be defects. The difference though, is that psychopaths pose a danger to the rest of us who were born with empathy engines. We should figure out a way to give them a place in our society that’s fair to but also protects us from their potential danger.
Of course, we’re also probably going to reach a point where the genetic markers for this type of variation will be recognized, and screened for during embryonic development. I’m not sure I have a moral objection to that, and perhaps it’s too mystical, too much an evidence of the 20th Century’s lack of understanding, to say that even if we did, nature would find a way to give us lions in our midst with the aim of culling us toward carrying capacity, leaving us with the same problem of integration.
This Roszko fellow was clearly a psychopath. He seems to be evidence that screening embryos might be a good thing. Heck, Paul Bernardo is why we should screen embryos if we ever have that capacity, nevermind Roszko. As much as it seems most Canadians appreciate that we don’t have the death penalty, I’m sure most of us would look the other way when it comes to Bernardo.
Let’s be clear about this – grow ops are part of this economy – they are supplying a demand that clearly exists. If they are as popular as the media is trying to scare us into believing, than they must represent a significant contribution to our economy. But we have no way of knowing that, because of the stupid laws. Christ, for all we know, if they taxed dope we could build a subway system for every city in Canada, or do this child-care thing, or build electric windmills. People in Toronto are complaining that it costs more to ride their transit system than it does to buy a coffee and a muffin at Tim Hortons … fucking legalize it already.
Grow ops aren’t the problem. The problem is making it contraband, so only those who don’t fit into society’s patterns – psychopaths and rebels etc – see it as a way to make a living without being part of the ‘legalized system’. I mean, who wants to hire someone with a record anyway? No wonder there’s a black market. Those grow opurteneurs are responding to the right-wing’s market forces, so they shouldn’t be penalized by the right-wing itself. Instead of not fitting their limited vision of the way things should work, they actually are matching their ideas – but only because they aren’t wearing ties the right-wing can’t see it. That’s how limited their vision of the world is, and why they will always be frustrated fundamentalists trying to make others fit – their view isn’t broad enough for anyone else anyway.
Four citizens of my generation were killed by one psychopath. That’s is the news story. Blaming grow-ops is nonsense. The real story here is why this nut was allowed to have all his guns, was allowed to be living on this farm when he had a criminal record which made it clear he was a menace. The media needs to direct the conversation there, instead of this grow-opaganda. They are beginning too – the coverage is now on the ‘hows’ of the whole thing. The funerals and all that. Again, let’s remind ourselves that it’s almost a parody of how great and mostly safe our country is that 4 deaths can be considered historic.
With regard to the debates on right now with regard to posters and public space, I thought maybe I should share some thoughts I had last evening with regard to public space and culture. Not so much about posters, but advertising versus public art, like the Ferris wheel on the Harbourfront last summer.
To begin with, I want to borrow Simon Houpt’s report on The Gates, on now in New York’s Central Park. It was in yesterday’s Globe and Mail (the article is moneywalled, but it you want to pay, it is here, although I’m gonna try to excerpt the best).
“The most enlightening comment I’ve heard so far about The Gates came from a man who had no idea what it was,” writes Houpt, “I don’t mean he couldn’t parse the meanings of Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s 7,5000 five-metre high doorframes hung with fabric around Central Park, or that he didn’t know whether to call it conceptual art or environmental art or an installation. No, this guy didn’t even know it was art. […] He’d somehow missed all the pre-event press coverage. So as he gazed northward at the thousands of orange shower curtains flapping in the wind, he turned and asked me, ‘Are they advertising that fabric?’Christo and Jeanne-Claude call their piece ‘interventions’ because they intrude, or impose themselves and their works, on public spaces. This apparently freaks us out. [emphasis mine] We’re used to one very specific sort of intervention: commercial ones, otherwise known as advertisements. Indeed, many visitors to Central Park have quipped that it’s a shame the artists don’t accept sponsorships, since the nylon orange is a perfect match for the corporate colours of Home Depot“. [emp. mine]
I would like to now declare art officially over. That’s the temptation, but of course I shouldn’t. Nothing really ever ends, it just evolves into new forms. One of the things I hate about the discourse surrounding contemporary art and its theories is the feelings of terminality. In the 1980s thinkers went to town declaring the end of this and the end of that. From Danto to Fukuyama, suddenly you and I and everyone else are living in a perpetually post world, as if the Boomers were full of apocalyptic messiahs, for whom all history came into being.
Are we supposed to be reveling in our ‘dreadful freedom’ the keywords of existentialism? Saul reminds us in The Doubter’s Companion (sorry I’m bringing him up again, it’s just that I’m in love with him) that existentialism is an ethical philosophy, which emphasizes that we are responsible, and should be judged on, our actions. ‘We are what we do, not what we intend’, he writes, and it’s obvious that within an existentialist framework, The Gates are an ad. Christo, with his 21M budget, is advertising ‘this isn’t advertising’. Lars makes this point in his posting (linked to above, but here again).
One of the things I found really interesting about the advertising industry, five years ago after No Logo came out and I’d begun to read it, was how I’d just gone through Canada’s premiere conceptual art school, and learned all about the art of ideas, and here were ads which were successfully ‘colonizing’ our mental space. Artists are trying to shake up your perceptions and plant ideas in your head, and yet, if only they had the budget. Conceptual artists are so financially outgunned that they have no voice in this culture, so that even when the occasional big budget artwork gets displayed, it’s not even perceived as art, functioning as an ineffective adbusting. This isn’t unique to New York, or The Gates.
Last summer, when the Power Plant was exhibiting the car-ferris wheel, Sally McKay reported overhearing this conversation: “I went down to the show on the street car and a whole posse of little ballerina girls got on at the bottom of Spadina. As we pulled up to the Harbourfront stop one turned-up-nosed-nymph said to another ‘Why make a ferris wheel for cars?’ Without pause or blink or taint of scorn the second replied ‘Promotion.'” (the original was a reply to a post by Jennifer McMackon).
There’s also Montreal’s Roadsworth case, where the city is trying to bust him for vandalism and for ‘distracting’ drivers, as if the naked ladies on billboards everywhere weren’t distracting already. “The Gates is confusing some people and causing a few to foam at the mouth,” Houpt writes, “Andrea Peyser, one of the many right-wing columnists at the New York Post and a woman who gets angry before she wakes up, declared the piece to be, ‘the artistic of equivalent of a yard that’s been strewn with stained toilet paper by juvenile delinquents on Halloween’. [or, it’s the equivalent of some crackers] A number of people I spoke with about the piece who described themselves as strong conservatives echoed her comment, saying they didn’t approve of public spaces such as the park being used for an art exhibit.”
Houpt goes on to comment that Times Square is the most famous public space in the world that’s devoted to advertising, one that was renamed in 1904 to promote the New York Times moving its headquarters to Long Acre Square a century ago. He notes that the City Council passed a resolution requiring the ads there to be brash and bold. When I went to the Times Square for the first time, I found it as an advertising space absolutely pointless: it was so overwhelming, to this day I can’t remember which ads I saw.
I would though, be able to imagine some future recreation of Times Square circa 2000, which could be an equivalent of visiting today’s baroque cathedrals … just overwhelming image and details absent the context by which we understand it as something to ignore. What I’m suggesting is that in the long run, as a measure of what this culture is about, it is not our artworks that are as interesting as it is our adverts. Which is depressing I admit, but what alternative are artists offering, when they can’t even break out of that paradigm? Perhaps the reason the public is so committed to painting and drawing, (the old, ‘do you paint?’ conversation when you tell someone you’re an artist) or ‘more traditional forms’, is because advertising has never co-opted it successfully.
When Jonas Mekas gave a lecture a couple of years ago, as part of the Ryerson Kodak Lecture Series, he complained about corporate culture, saying he wanted to celebrate the small, those who embrace failure in everyday life, and those who don’t want to make history. I myself hate the ‘failure discourse’ that’s grown up over the past few years, because it’s pretty retarded (‘I’m gonna be successful by failing’, WTF?) but I was sympathetic to what he was saying. He was bitching about this fashion of mega-art big budget stuff. I can see now that artists are merely trying to compete with ads on their own terms, equally big-budget, equally empty of profundity. It gives me more security to continue making small paintings and drawings, since if I had 21 M dollars, I’d try to do something more socially significant than ‘redecorate a bike path‘. And, it reminds us that when you can’t compete with ads on their own terms, a photocopier can be just as effective. If the city wants to get rid of posters, they should pass a by-law requiring billboard companies (like Viacom, which owns everything) to donate the space for a certain percentage of the year.
Coming out of that lecture, I was immediately confronted with Toronto’s pathetic attempt at a Times Square, that of Dundas. The debate is valid, in my perspective, in that I don’t mind messy poles, it makes me feel that I’m walking in a living city. It’s 21million times better than the waste of money that the redevelopment on Dundas represents. The posters, and the debate, tell me that while advertising may have co-opted the imaginations of many people so that public art projects are confused with them, there is a percentage of people for whom that hasn’t happened, and that’s the city’s artists. While ad agencies have tried to even co-opt graffiti as well with their murals (which have the double effect of usually being aesthetically pleasing, so I don’t mind them as much as I do billboards) their work will never be confused with advertising.
“The most enlightening comment I’ve heard so far about The Gates came from a man who had no idea what it was,” writes Simon Houpt, in today’s Globe and Mail (the article is moneywalled, but it you want to pay, it is here, although I’m gonna try to excerpt the best). He continues:
I don’t mean he couldn’t parse the meanings of Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s 7,5000 five-metre high doorframes hung with fabric around Central Park, or that he didn’t know whether to call it conceptual art or environmental art or an installation. No, this guy didn’t even know it was art.On the day the curtains were unfurled, the manager on duty at the New York Athletic Club on Central Park South escorted me to the club’s ninth-floor ballroom so I could see the piece from on high. He had no idea why I wanted to go up there: He’d somehow missed all the pre-event press coverage. So as he gazed northward at the thousands of orange shower curtains flapping in the wind, he turned and asked me, “Are they advertising that fabric?”
Christo and Jeanne-Claude call their piece ‘interventions’ because they intrude, or impose themselves and their works, on public spaces. This apparently freaks us out. [emphasis mine] We’re used to one very specific sort of intervention: commercial ones, otherwise known as advertisements. Indeed, many visitors to Central Park have quipped that it’s a shame the artists don’t accept sponsorships, since the nylon orange is a perfect match for the corporate colours of Home Depot. [emp. mine]
I would like to now declare art officially over. That’s the temptation, but of course I shouldn’t. Nothing really ever ends, it just evolves into new forms. One of the things I hate about the discourse surrounding contemporary art and its theories is the feelings of terminality. In the 1980s thinkers went to town declaring the end of this and the end of that. From Danto to Fukuyama, suddenly you and I and everyone else are living in a perpetually post world, as if the Boomers were full of apocalyptic messiahs, for whom all history came into being.
Are we supposed to be reveling in our ‘dreadful freedom’ the keywords of existentialism? Saul reminds us in The Doubter’s Companion that existentialism is an ethical philosophy, which emphasizes that we are responsible, and should be judged on, our actions. ‘We are what we do, not what we intend’, he writes, and it’s obvious that within an existentialist framework, The Gates are an ad. Christo, with his 21M budget, is advertising ‘this isn’t advertising’.
One of the things I found really interesting about the advertising industry, five years ago after No Logo came out and I’d begun to read it, was how I’d just gone through Canada’s premiere conceptual art school, and learned all about the art of ideas, and here were ads which were successfully ‘colonizing’ our mental space. Artists are trying to shake up your perceptions and plant ideas in your head, and yet, if only they had the budget. Conceptual artists are so financially outgunned that they have no voice in this culture, so that even when the occasional big budget artwork gets displayed, it’s not even perceived as art, functioning as an ineffective adbusting. This isn’t unique to New York, or The Gates.
Last summer, when the Power Plant was exhibiting the car-ferris wheel, Sally McKay reported overhearing this conversation:
I went down to the show on the street car and a whole posse of little ballerina girls got on at the bottom of Spadina. As we pulled up to the Harbourfront stop one turned-up-nosed-nymph said to another “Why make a ferris wheel for cars?” Without pause or blink or taint of scorn the second replied “Promotion.”
which was a reply to this post by Jennifer McMackon.
There’s also the Roadsworth case, where the city is trying to bust him for vandalism and for ‘distracting’ drivers, as if the naked ladies on billboards everywhere weren’t distracting already. “The Gates is confusing some people and causing a few to foam at the mouth,” Houpt writes,
Andrea Peyser, one of the many right-wing columnists at the New York Post and a woman who gets angry before she wakes up, declared the piece to be, ‘the artistic of equivalent of a yard that’s been strewn with stained toilet paper by juvenile delinquents on Halloween’.”
A number of people I spoke with about the piece who described themselves as strong conservatives echoed her comment, saying they didn’t approve of public spaces such as the park being used for an art exhibit.
Houpt goes on to comment that Times Square is the most famous public space in the world that’s devoted to advertising, one that was renamed in 1904 to promote the New York Times moving its headquarters to Long Acre Square a century ago. He notes that the City Council passed a resolution requiring the ads there to be brash and bold. When I went to the Times Square for the first time, I found it as an advertising space absolutely pointless: it was so overwhelming, to this day I can’t remember which ads I saw.
I would though, be able to imagine some future recreation of Times Square circa 2000, which could be an equivalent of visiting today’s baroque cathedrals … just overwhelming image and details absent the context by which we understand it as something to ignore. What I’m suggesting is that in the long run, as a measure of what this culture is about, it is not our artworks that are as interesting as it is our adverts. Which is depressing I admit, but what alternative are artists offering, when they can’t even break out of that paradigm? Perhaps the reason the public is so committed to painting and drawing, (the old, ‘do you paint?’ conversation when you tell someone you’re an artist) or ‘more traditional’ forms, is because advertising has never co-opted it successfully.
When Jonas Mekas gave a lecture a couple of years ago, as part of the Ryerson Kodak Lecture Series, he complained about corporate culture, saying he wanted to celebrate the small, those who embrace failure in everyday life, and those who don’t want to make history. I myself hate the ‘failure discourse’ that’s grown up over the past few years, because it’s pretty retarded (‘I’m gonna be successful by failing’, WTF?) but I was sympathetic to what he was saying. He was bitching about this fashion of mega-art big budget stuff. I can see now that artists are merely trying to compete with ads on their own terms, equally big-budget, equally empty of profundity. It gives me more security to continue making small paintings and drawings, since if I had 21 M dollars, I’d try to do something more socially significant than ‘redecorate a bike path‘.
In today’s Globe and Mail, I saw the headline for an article (same report here since The Globe’s archives are moneywalled) which read: “Vatican denounces ‘health-fiend’ madness’, with the sub-heading, “Rejecting society’s costly quest for cures, Rome says Pope’s suffering is to be admired”.
I didn’t read the article, since I felt no need. This has been the Vatican’s position on their increasingly incapacitated leader for years … the Pope wants to promote an acceptance of life as it is, rather than run from all of it’s problems. His illness is likened to the Christ’s willingness to be tortured to save the souls of humanity. It also follows in the Pope’s desire for a ‘culture of life‘ which is one that accepts the disabled and the infirm instead of a political debate on euthanasia, which he’s argued, is nothing more than the healthy desiring to eliminate and hide from things that make them uncomfortable. Those of us familiar with the arguments from the poverty-lobby know what he’s talking about here. Treat human beings as human beings no matter what their circumstance.
Unfortunately, this dismissal on medicine is too much inline with Neitzsche’s analysis of Christianity as a religion of slaves, which is quite literally was in the beginning. The Church becomes an apologist for social injustice, promoting the idea that life isn’t fair and you’d better get used to it, and better yet, find metaphorical meaning in your state of injustice.
It could be argued that the default setting of a human being is that of a religious animal – that spirituality plays a big part of our lives, since the mind naturally looks for meaning in the world, through it’s pattern recognition engine. That’s what psychology has given us, a sensible explanation for our spiritual beliefs. It doesn’t detract from them in anyway, to know how it works, and for me it encourages a healthy attitude toward spirituality as part of a balanced psychology. But we understand there’s a profound difference between spirituality and being religious. Religion has come to be seen by many as a way to keep the ignorant in line – that’s been argued for centuries now. It is a secular position. It seems to follow that if people are prone to religiosity to express their spirituality by default, education almost always eliminates that desire, and makes people in some cases atheists, but in most cases, appreciative of a secular division between religion and state. Pierre Trudeau was an ardent Catholic, but he knew better to be one in public. The USA has not been so fortunate yet, as their presidents turn going to Church into photo ops, to court the votes of their citizens who have gone through their dismal school system. That gimmick alone is probably why they refuse to reform their schools, since then their politicking would get a lot more difficult than simply showing up for photo ops and giving simplistic campaign speeches.
Martin Luther’s Reformation came about because by 16th Century, the Church, which had nurtured education, had become a nest of secular, and in some cases, atheistic individuals (which they wouldn’t have admitted, but it’s fair to say they were cynical). They were making money selling absolutions and enjoying the comforts of a high social standing. They were the CEO’s of their day, disengaged, uncaring, and doing everything they could to maintain their privileged status quo. Even after the Reformation, the Church remained corrupt, so that by the 18th Century, (in France anyway) it was a target of disdain by the Encyclopediaists and Volatire, and in the 20th Century seems to have been a haven for homosexuals well versed in the ideals of Greek Love (not so much pedophiles, but a love for pubescent teenage boys, see this Slate article for more). So, anyway, the point is that the priesthood has often been corrupted by scandal, whether sexual or idealistic. Heretics and perverts, for 2000 years, but still able to nurture culture and thought during the long fall of the Roman Empire.
As a religion of slaves, the Church is an apologist for social injustice. It propagates that injustice even today, with it’s refusal to admit condoms are a good thing. Abortion is something else entirely – as something that celebrates life, as a spiritual exercise, there’s no way it can ever condone abortion. As President Clinton said of abortion, ‘it should be safe, legal and rare’. People who turn abortion into a factor of dehumanization, and go so far as to want to kill abortionists, are clearly more on the Devil’s side than God’s. But religious opposition to abortion encourages us, and reminds us, to treat human beings as human beings no matter what their circumstance. The fact that there’s a difference between a collection of cells and a baby is what allows those of us who support abortion rights to sleep at night.
The prevalence of abortion as a convenience and form of birth control because women aren’t able to face the prospect of being a mother so young, nor being a single mom, especially under conditions of poverty, is a measure of how unjust and how unfavorable our society is toward life. So when the Pope, or even President Bush, talks about nurturing a ‘culture of life’ rather than one of death, I am sympathetic.
Writing from the perspective of the 26th Century, Richard Morgan, in Altered Carbon, describes Catholics this way:
‘Catholics,’ said Ortega, lip curling, ‘Old-time religious sect.’ […] ‘Kovacs, I hate these goddamn freaks. They’ve been grinding us down for the best part of two and half-thousand years. They’ve been responsible for more misery than any other organization in history. You know they won’t even let their adherents practice birth control, for Christ’s sake, and they’ve stood against every significant medical advance of the last five centuries. Practically the only thing you can say in their favor is that this d.h.f thing has stopped them from spreading with the rest of humanity’.
The d.h.f thing is the central premise of the novel, that in the future you can digitize a human’s mind and transfer it from body to body, enabling practical immortality as long as the chip at the base of your skull is not destroyed. In the novel, Catholics have taken the stance that you can’t digitize a soul, and so this is all very immoral and forbidden, even though the rest of society as reformed itself around this reality, which has actually led to a retrogression, since, removing death means it is no longer an effective motivator, nor is it terrifying, so torture – the infliction of memorable pain – is now much more common and necessary, and culture stagnates because memory is so long.
The Vatican can denounce health fiend madness all it wants, and keep propping up their chief invalid, but their philosophical justifications for the most part aren’t helping anybody. It is quite probable that by the 2500s, Richard Morgan’s dialogue will be spoken in actuality by somebody, since Catholicism has too often used it’s philosophers to try and pin down the injustice of the status quo. When I wrote the other day that just because certain problems have been around since Roman times does not so much mean they are timeless as they’re indications that we’re very good procrastinators, it does occur to me now that the procrastination has been helped because the Vatican keeps feeding society’s leaders with excuses not to do anything. And hence, ‘as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end’.
Dear Pope,
Things aren’t as bad as you think they are.
Please die soon, so that you can enjoy your eternal rest and the conversations with Jesus, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy more than the Vatican’s bureaucracy. And could you say hi to my dead grandfathers for me?
Brad Pitt will star in the mind-bendingly self-referential Sony pic Chad Schmidt, where he’ll play an actor that can’t get work because he looks too much like Brad Pitt. You know, kind of like Skeet Ulrich and Johnny Depp. [Variety]
Which reminded me of the project I wanted to do last year, where I wanted to make a video that consisted of a Charlie Rose type interview with an actor, who plays me in a future biopic. Inspired by the appearance of Ed Harris on Charlie Rose when he was promoting Pollock, I basically wanted to do the same thing: interview, with clips from the film. Project didn’t get off the ground for different reasons: no money, no film equipment, too much of mind bender. But as I’ve said about another backburnered project (I have a very big stove with lots of backburners) no reason why I can’t do it in the future.
With Pitt’s movie coming out, and with my idea in mind, I’ve got to thinking about how our time has stopped moving forward, and become nothing more than a pool. Was it Derrida who wrote about this? I don’t know, who can understand him anyway? Time is always compared to a river, which is a very Western conception … time flows in a linear way. Other cultures throughout the world saw time in a cyclical nature, inspired by the regularity of the seasons. Myself, I experience a bit of both … time flows from a distant past, but as Mark Twain said, “Time doesn’t repeat itself but it sure does rhyme”, or the other saying I think about, “The more things change the more they stay the same”. Reading history can shock you into a feeling that despite lots of superficial advancements, human beings behave consistently. That’s human nature for you.
Reading the Dune novels in my early 20s though gave a me a sense for deep stretches of time. Those novels cover something like 5000 years, with the emperor Leto II having had a 3000 year reign, due to the spice and other intricacies of the storyline. It made me wonder what our world would be like had an Egyptian pharaoh achieved this type of longevity … imagine having some king who’d be around for 3000 years. In the Dune novels, there’s little cultural variation over these lengthy time periods, because of the status quo of long lived leaders. It helps make me aware that we’re only 2000 years away from the time of Christ, and we think that’s a big deal. But in reality, our species has been on the planet, and creating culture for 195,000 years. We are a very different type of human, but our history divided into centuries is actually pretty insignificant … and hence, we can see that just because social injustice has been around since the time of the Roman Empire, it’s not so much that they’re timeless problems, but that we happen to be very good procrastinators.
Our own time period encourages this procrastination by immersing us in ‘tradition traps’. Jared Diamond, in his book, Collaspe, describes how cultural stubbornness prevented the Norse from eating fish and working with the natives in Greenland, and hence, their colony collapsed. The tradition traps that we are in the midst of are held in place by advertising and all these mixed media messages – a news story on global warming and environmental degradation is followed by an SUV commercial or a TV show glamorizing a lifestyle that is inherently selfish and harmful. As much as we want to be happy in our lives and have a sort or relaxed approach to things, we don’t think that individually we matter too much, and that the sort of things we see happen in the workplace that are wrong, or the choices we make as to where to vacation, matter.
Stuck in a nostalgia loop of marketing, with previous decades being re-presented to us, with ‘greatest hits’ compilations and what not, which should be marketed, or presented, as form of history, are instead presented to us as a rebranded part of our present. In the past – in the 20th Century, the future was something that people envisioned, and planed for. They tried to guide the course of the stream. Today, for a variety of reasons beyond what I’ve already described, the future has been lost. The older generation – our establishment – have failed in the imagination of the future. Even the latest Star Trek show has fallen into re-using plots from the past franchises, and has recently been canceled. Why this generation has failed to lead, to imagine, is only because of the industry of management. John Ralston Saul is my intellectual hero because he really nailed this in the 1990s – how our society had overproduced managers, whose job it is to manage, not imagine. I also can’t help but think that this generation failed because they were blindsided by digitization. In the early 1990s, fax machines and interactive television were seen to be the wave of the future, and bam, along comes the World Wide Web and eBay, Amazon, and Google.
My recent Goodreads selections, documents from the future, show me that imagining the future hasn’t gone away. It’s only been underreported, underrepresented, because people who grew up with computers and watching science-fiction, and thinking about things in ways that reflect our experience of the late 20th Century, aren’t yet part of the establishment. Debates in this country on green-energy and gay marriage, seem pointless to us because we’ve been to the mountaintop and seen the promised land. The sci-fi of the 1980s – the last real decade of imagination – inspired us to what our world might be like as 21st Century adults. It was a world of liberal values, inclusiveness, and one that alternated between a violent dystopia and a technological utopia. In 2005 we’ve gotten both.
The dreams for the future that got us this far are now out of gas. We’ve become self-referential. Brad Pitt playing himself is part of what this decade is about, but this was already present fifty years ago, when Richard Sherman’s character in 1955’s The Seven Year Itch referred to ‘the blond in the kitchen’ as maybe being Marilyn Monroe. Seeing that movie the other night was an example of the more things change… since our lives today are still about ‘kids today’ and television, and stress, counting calories, and summer’s being too hot. What has changed is the place of women in society, no longer so domesticated to be sent off to Maine for the holidays. Thank goodness for that. That movie is not as delightful as it once was because it isn’t fair to women. Hence, the more they stay the same, the more things change.
My own project came from a desire for context. To sort-of understand my place in current events – a chance to reproduce some of my favorite scenes in biopics, where a character has a radio on or the news or whatever, contextualizing the story in history. I often felt like my life had become cinematic in that way standing next to newspaper boxes in the month immediately after September 2001. I also wanted to play with the idea that we get it wrong whenever we make these biopics, because as a re-creation of the past, liberties are taken. So I wanted to make something that used the stereotypes of our time to engage in a simulacra, stuff like have the actor playing me wearing Tommy Hilfiger stuff even though I refuse to buy anything that’s Tommy. Trying to represent how this time might be envisioned by the future by using it’s most extreme examples. I mean, a film like Pollock that was set in the 1950s, had a very different use of time-period objects than did The Seven Year Itch which was actually made during that decade.
I was also inspired by the type of delightful mindbender like Adaptation where Charlie Kauffman wrote himself into the story. But I guess a reason I didn’t really pursue it was, A) I didn’t get the grant, and B) I have a hard enough time living as I am without trying to step outside of myself to turn myself into a character … and biopics always centre around ‘the great love story’ and there hasn’t been one for me yet, so such a project is premature. Nor have there been really dramatic things to ‘excerpt’ for Mr. Rose in the 22nd Century.
Romeo Dallaire was being interviewed on Hot Type, and described trying to negotiate with the fuckers who’d organized the genocide in Rwanda in 1994. He said that they had the form of a human being, but they had ceased to be human. It totally reminded me of Ann Coulter. People keep making a joke about how she’s a robot, which I don’t find funny. She’s one seriously evil bitch. One of these days, in one of these columns of her’s, she’s gonna call for something like genocide. Psychologists tell us that dehumanizing your enemy is the first step toward anything approaching genocide.
One of the haunting questions of the 20th Century is how so many ordinary people committed wartime atrocities. The philosopher Jonathan Glover has documented that a common denominator is degradation: a diminution of the victim’s status of cleanliness or both. When someone strips a person of dignity my making jokes about his suffering, giving him a humiliating appearance (a dunce cap, awkward prison garb, a crudely shaved head), or forcing him to live in filthy conditions, ordinary people’s compassion can evaporate and they find it easy to treat him like an animal or object. […]…Accompanied by tactics of dehumanization such as the use of pejorative names, degrading conditions, humiliating dress, and ‘cold jokes; that make light suffering … flip a mental switch and reclassify an individual from ‘person’ to ‘nonperson’ making it as easy for someone to torture or kill him as it is for us to boil a lobster alive.
Steven Pinker, The Blank Slate p.273/74 & 320/21
Having seen that 5th Estate documentary on the inflammatory Right Wing, my only feeling is in their dehumanization of Lefties, and their own inability to admit that they might be wrong about stuff, they are excersizing evil. And that’s not rhetoric…
But I don’t want to make their mistake by dehumanizing Coulter … at this point, yeah, she’s inhuman, but for all we know she’ll recant in a few years like George Wallace eventually did. Wallace tried to play the race card all the way to the White House, cynically exploiting the bigotry of the South. My impression is the Coulter and Bill O’Reilly have found celebrity through a similar means of cynically exploiting American ignorance and hatred for diversity. Perhaps all of their vile spit is simply a symptom that they’re having a hard time living with themselves.
With news that the Pope is in hospital, CBC leads The National with that story, saying that across Churches tonight people were praying for the Pope. Why? He’s the Pope – he’s going to Heaven. After 83 years, witnessing the Nazi and then the Communist occupation of his homeland, and now wracked by disease and age, a ticket to Paradise should be welcome.
Do you think the Pope fears death? A man who’s devoted his life to trying to share his faith with others, his faith that death is nothing to be feared? As Jesus himself said, albeit Jesus a played by Willem Dafoe in the blasphemous The Last Temptation of Christ, “Death isn’t a door that closes, it opens. It opens and you go through it”. Besides, he figures he’ll be back with Christ on the Day of Resurection, which fundamentally is why I can’t consider myself too religious. I believe the dead stay dead: further, I believe the dead end up in museums. It doesn’t make any sense to me to think that one day I’ll be hanging around with a Neanderthal.
Besides, I’ve been saying for years that if Heaven’s going to be full of Christian assholes like Jerry Falwell and the fuckers who re-elected George Bush because he shares their ignorance and lack of appreciation for the world’s diversity, then they can have it. They make Hell sound better and better all the time. I mean, everyone I know’s gonna be in Hell – I’d much prefer to spend eternity with my friends.
Besides, fire and brimstone … why would God punish people like that? Some god that would be. ‘Oh worship me, I’m so insecure! If you don’t I’m gonna burn you’. Sounds more like a spoiled brat than the master of the universe. A spoiled brat that any adult would give a good spanking to if they caught him burning people because they wouldn’t kiss his ass. I mean, that’s pretty much what this whole worship thing’s about: bow down, show deference, respect etc.
I’m all in favor of reverence. I think it’s a required part of a healthy psychology. I’ve heard that the praying 5 times a day thing that Muslims do serves to remind them of their humility – the type of humility that I feel when I lay outside on a summer night and look at the stars.
But worship I find unhealthy. I hate deference. (However, if I’d ever met this Pope, or a future one, you’d bet I’d show deference. It’s part of being an ape, you know, showing respect to the grayback). I don’t want to think of myself as better than anyone, or think someone else is better than me. What I’d like is respect for our differences. An appreciation that we each bring something to the table through our diversity.
If the Pope dies this week, I’ll be happy. I’ll be happy because we’ll have some fresh blood in the tired old church. I’ll be happy because it’ll be a media event that I haven’t yet experienced. Why would I morn? I’ve already said that doesn’t make any sense for anyone familar with Catholiscim (and the fact that Catholics still do morn reveals that deep down we all know it’s bullshit). The Pope’s had a good run – and he’s earned his eternal rest. I can’t say I’ll miss him because I don’t know him, but inasmuch as he was a precence in my life as a Catholic child, I am thankful for his example. He taught me about forgiveness. For those reasons when he came to Toronto in 2002, I wanted to go to his Mass. I did, and I have a memory that I’ll always appreciate.
In my own way I will pray for the Pope – but it will be a prayer of thanks, and a prayer of godspeed.
Jan Herman reports in a posting (2005.01.30) that John Zorn:
….repeatedly stressed that his music comes from some sort of higher power. He said that it would not have been possible for him to complete over 300 of his Masadic melodies during a very short time period without some sort of supernatural help. In the program, he writes that composition is at its best “when the piece is seemingly writing itself and the composer is merely an observer. He says that some of his works, “transcend my expectations and my abilities. I cannot explain them. They are part of the Mystery.”
Here we have an example of the need for a new language, a new understanding, of the creative process, one better informed by psychology than mystic mumbo-jumbo.
Psychologists tell us today that consciousness is a story teller. As Steven Pinker tells it on page 42 of The Blank Slate :
Each of us feels that there is a single “I” in control. But that is an illusion that the brain works hard to produce, like the impression that our visual fields are rich in detail from edge to edge (in fact, we are blind to detail outside the fixation point). […] One of the most dramatic demonstrations of the illusion of the unified self comes from the neuroscientists Michael Gazzaniga and Roger Sperry, who showed that when surgeons cut the corpus collosum joining the cerebral hemispheres, they literally cut the self in two, and each hemisphere can exercise free will without the other one’s advice or consent. Even more disconcertingly, the left hemisphere constantly weaves a coherent but false account of the behavior chosen without it’s knowledge by the right. For example, if an experimenter flashes the command “WALK” to the right hemisphere (by keeping it in the part of the visual field that only the right hemisphere can see), the person will comply with the request and begin to walk out of the room. But when the person (specifically, the person’s left hemisphere) is asked why he just got up he will say, in all sincerity, “To get a Coke” – rather than, “I don’t really know” or “The urge just came over me” or “You’ve been testing me for years since I had the surgery, and sometimes you get me to do things but I don’t know exactly what you asked me to do”. Similarly, if the patient’s left hemisphere is shown a chicken and his right hemisphere is shown a snowfall, and both hemispheres have to select a picture that goes with what they saw (each using a different hand), the left hemisphere picks a claw (correctly) and the right picks a shovel (also correctly). But when the left hemisphere is asked why the whole person made those choices, it blithely says, “Oh that’s simple. The chicken claw goes with the chicken, and you need a shovel to clean out the chicken shed.”The spooky part is that we have no reason to think that the baloney-generator in the patient’s left hemisphere is behaving any differently from ours as we make sense of the inclinations emanating from the rest of our brains. The conscious mind – the self or soul – is a spin doctor, not the commander in chief. […] Often our conscious minds do not control how we act but merely tell us a story about our actions.
This coincides with Malcolm Gladwell’s reportage in his most recent book, Blink which I haven’t yet read, but in a presentation (audio file available here, a fuller transcription from where I take these quotes is here) presented last October, he says:
We don’t have access to our unconscious, [we don’t know where are thoughts] come from that bubbles up from the recesses of our brain. So what do we do? Well, we have a behavior that we just did, we just made a decision of a certain kind, we don’t really know where it came from, so we come up with an explanation, we make up a story. And we’re really really good at making up stories. I call this The Story Telling Problem. And this is something that happens over and over again.
So both arguments imply that we need language to self-narrate understanding. Zorn’s example goes back to Socrates arguing that artists were inspired. Now, at the dawn of the 21st Century, we can put aside such mystical and primitive tales. The language of inspiration has been the only one available to us since the time of Socrates, and Zorn’s lack of knowledge of contemporary psychology means that to explain his creativity to himself, he falls back on that language.
As a creative person, informed by Gladwell and Pinker, I would argue that the mind is made up of many processes, and we are only ever conscious of a brief portion of what’s going. We tell ourselves stories to explain our actions, but those actions are being processed beneath or above the threshold were the “PR person” gets a hold of them. In Zorn’s case I would say that his musical facility means that a portion of his mind has great facility with music, and when it comes time to compose, this is brought to the awareness of the PR person and the part of his mind that directs writing and all that. However, the PR person is at a loss to understand just what is happening, because it doesn’t have the language to explain it. The only thing it has available for his ‘Coke story’ is to fall back on the mystical stories inherited from the time of Socrates.
Last week, I found these two pictures on Franklin Einspruch’s Artblog.net:
While walking to YYZ that evening, I had the memory of the nude figure in mind when I thought about the materiality of painting. Through art school, I’d always hoped to become a Renaissance master, learn the techniques of glazes and sufmato. Not that I planned to paint like that for the rest of my life, but I at least wanted the ability. Of course, that ambition was a faux pas, and whenever I expressed interest in fellow painters who were good at rendering, or drafting, I usually encountered the snickers of my other painter friends. By their lack of interest in my own work, and their lack of engagement with me in terms of the craft, I knew that they thought I was a shit painter.
My best friend was the worst at this: I knew he didn’t take me seriously, but when it comes to my talents I don’t care what other people think of me.
Art has always been a form of self-entertainment, a way to kill time, a way to explore things. I create because I want something to do. After sometime doing this as a child and a teenager, you pick up some techniques, next thing you know, people are calling you an artist. So then you’re like, oh I could do this for a living, and art schools being business’ like any other, aren’t going to tell you that, no, you aren’t going to make a living as an artist. They don’t really have to, they are banking on your ambition and naivete, and there are plenty of hints that an art career is foolishness. But you think, no, I’m different, I’m good. You realize that many around you will fail, but somehow you think that you’ll succeed, even though the odds are against you. You develop a stubborn self-confidence when you go into art, because you are both na??ve and arrogant.
The stubborn self-confidence becomes really really useful. It may be one of the reasons I think art school should be a mandatory part of anyone’s education, because it humanizes you, in part because through the insecurities which you’re compensating for, you develop empathy for those around you who are also struggling towards self-confidence.
My friend, who didn’t take me seriously as a painter, never bothered to tell me why he thought my painting was shit. He dotted his professional esteem on another friend of mine, who has since decided that she’s no good as a painter and has decided to become an academic, which has led to some great conversations and some interesting and intense arguments. She and my friend shared the secret of what makes a great painting. So one night, during one these great conversations, I asked her what this was all about. A good painting, she told me, as it had been explained to her by my best friend, is about being able to represent a three dimensional image on a surface, but also about the materiality of the paint. That with a painting you can and should have both, materiality and image.
This struck me as nothing more than a 20th Century fashion, and to condemn paintings for the lack of this quality, and to hype others for it, seems shortsighted.
So these two paintings, by Tai-Shan Schierenberg, exemplify this very well. We have an image represented in space, but we also have the sensual ickyness of the paint visible. When I first saw the nude I thought it was by Lucien Freud, and a write up on his gallery’s website references that similarity. Both are British. Where Freud was born in 1922 (and will be a venerable 83 this year), Mons. Schierenberg is half that age, born in the early 1960s.
As a 20th Century fashion, we can assume that in the future historians will be able to date our paintings by this look, just as easily as we can with past centuries. We know that the 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries have style, a theme of subject matter, a look. In the 20th Century, painting became obsessed with itself as a viscous medium resting on a surface. We don’t know what 21st Century painting will look like – this century’s look has not yet developed. It seems that in a world where all of our images are perfectly rendered on screens, the human touch evident in brushstroke and viscosity is what makes painting valuable. It occurs to me then that perhaps the traditional tales of the rise of Modernism, and especially Ab-ex painting in the 1950s, ignores the concurrent development of television. These things make me think that this style has legs to go into the 21st Century.
At the same time, we 20C folk are limited to thinking of everything as ‘human touch’ and go on and on about ‘humanity’ – this vast 19th C hangover of industrialization. We’re at a point now as a society that people enjoy sex that much more when it’s filmed and public. Whenever we are tempted to use the word ‘traditional’ we should stop and ask ourselves if this tradition isn’t rooted in the 1800s or earlier. I think that by the time I’m Lucian Freud’s age (2058) folk’ll be printing paintings they design with whatever grandchild of Illustrator has been developed … which they are already doing now, but aren’t being taken seriously. I think what I find most shocking as we move into the future is how much and how many traditions are falling away, or becoming so evidently obsolete as to have no hold on the young.
Having found a porn vid on the net consisting of some girl having sex in a nightclub with a male stripper, while girls over at the other table ignore it as if they were simply making out, unsettles one’s perceptions of the world, of what’s predictable, and of the wildness that is out there in our society now. The Instant Coffee make-out parties seem chaste by comparison. Orgies have had a place in civilization throughout the centuries, but after 150 years of Victoriana, marked by health scares, this old human behavior reasserting itself reminds us that our traditions are merely fashions that pass through generations as if they were the cut of a collar.
And the point I’m trying to make here, is that I’m under the impression that the kids (those under 25) don’t care. They don’t care about our traditions, our ways of describing things. I say ‘our’ as someone born in the 70s, near the end of the Gen X scale, as a thoroughly 20th Century individual. I say that as someone who’s turning 30 at the end of the month, that age which could not be trusted 40 years ago.
The kids (18-25 and younger) grew up with Nike telling them to just do it, and it seems to be their philosophy. They’re just gonna do it. If they want to print a painting, they will. They’re not going to give a shit about a discourse on the medium, they’re not gonna give a shit about art history. Indeed, the one thing that seems significant here is how little history seems to be involved.
As a child in the ’80s, ’40 years ago’ was World War II. My first experience of the history of the world, of the century, was that there’d been this great war ’40 years ago’. As I got older, I had to modify that lesson, so now, World War II was sixty years ago, and, to my shock, the 1960s (which had been ’20 years ago’) are forty years past. History for me is a gauge of experience, a reference point for TV shows and the news. For a younger generation, 20 years ago is colour footage of Live Aid, an indistinct memory of a world run by Grandpa Reagan, and of the earliest music videos.
One can’t see past the colour film stock of the late 1960s. I’m guessing here, but I’m thinking our future adult society thinks black & white is lame. I for one think black & white, now best called ‘grayscale’, is lame most of the time. So, I’m sympathetic to these challenges to tradition, habit, and academic fashion. Far from being conservative and feeling disgust or condemnation, I’m excited about this feeling of wild possibility. I see myself living through a transitional time which is even more significant than the industrial revolution of the 19th Century. As we move into what Greg Bear called in his novels, ‘the Dataflow Culture’.
Unfortunately, these quality-of-life technologies allow a sense of irresponsibility, because you can forget phone numbers or details that can be called up from anywhere at anytime. People can fuck around and smoke and whatever, because they’ll probably have disease licked in 30 years. But let’s hope that a feeling of duty toward others is ingrained enough in our psychologies that Prada Princess monsters and Paris Hilton Aintoniettes are late 20th Century aberrations, a product (like all other 20C products) not built to last.
Again, Star Trek (this vast PR machine for technology) provides the model of tech as an enhancement to the quality of life. That is certainly my attitude toward it, reared as I was on it’s philosophy. But, it’s also in line with 20C sci-fi speculation, and here Greg Bear is the best promoter of quality-of-life technology. His future is the one I hope and expect to live in. But, as I want to say, his fiction itself is a 20C vision, and the 20C was delusional.
Before 2050, we’ll speak no more of “‘isms” and academic critics will have discredited themselves. I think Bear’s anticipation of Thinkers is spot on – becoming safe, kind, controlled, and respected authorities, on subjects which will be too complex for humans to fully master. The authority-human is too subject to bias and the whims of our genetic nature. The idea that we’d sell our souls to machines and that they’ll take over the world is an example of the mental illness of the 20C, a projection of our negative tendencies, rather than a sensible viewpoint. It reflects the 20C’s affair with violence, rather than a reasonable expectation. The 21C will recognize people as people as fundamentally good, rather than the 20C’s view that people were essentially shit. That negative view is everywhere in the ‘isms and has produced so many dogmatically angry and disagreeable people, who want to perpetuate the 20C’s cycles of violence. While the ‘isms articulated the nastiness we’re capable of, giving us a language to understand what we need to avoid in ourselves, beyond that they aren’t helpful, and we can’t expect the rest of the century to consists of more refined and better articulated views of our bastardry. I would think that the future will instead build on ‘quality of life’ and focus it’s attention on articulating the good things about life, helping us become good people, as opposed to beating us over the head with our shames.
This is much more easier to say now that it would have been a month ago, even two weeks ago, which was Christmas Day, of ‘joy to the world’ propaganda. We’re living through this historic moment of global consciousness, we’re everyone is talking about the tsunami, and rebuilding, and giving, and the distribution of wealth. The interview on The Current this past week on charity was really great and added to my sense of embarrassment over my actions on Wednesday. People do care about others, politicians do need to wake up to the sense of community among human beings. I suddenly do have a sense that 2005 will be a remarkable, even revolutionary year. The revolution may come at some later point, but historians could look to this year as its beginning. Since researching chronologies again last month, I’ve been taken with the Mayan problem – the well known fact that their long-count chronology ends in December 2012. One of the interpretations I read was that it would signal a change in human consciousness, as I don’t believe in the end of the world. I’d hate to think that there’s an asteroid out there with a Winter Solstice due date in 7 years. I’d think they’d have found that sucker by now. Of course, perhaps that’s the date of a nuclear war, and another environmental catastrophe …. an earthquake that devastates Central America?
Whatever, I’d like to think that we will find ourselves living in a kinder world in seven years, precipitated by the momentum initiated the past two weeks. 2005 is already supposed to be devoted to the reduction of poverty, as the letter from Bill Gates and Bono published last weekend in The Globe and Mail attested. The tsunami disaster has redefined the world’s problems, as did 9/11. Bush and oil and Iraq has been trivialized by a certain degree, and the global community reacts, the stirring of world government and culture are here.
The old classic I’ve been thinking about for the past week and half:
Conversation Concerning Life and Death
MARAT:
[speaking to SADE across the empty arena]
I read in your books de Sade
in one of your immortal works
that the basis of all life is death
SADE:
Correct Marat
But man has given a false importance to death
Any animal plant or man who dies
adds to Nature’s compost heap
becomes the manure without which
nothing could grow nothing could be created
Death is simply part of the process
Every death even the cruelest death
drowns in the total indifference of Nature
Nature herself would watch unmoved
if we destroyed the entire human race
[rising]
I hate Nature
this passionless spectator this unbreakable ice-berg-face
that can bear everything
this goads us to greater and greater acts
[breathing heavily]
Haven’t we always beaten down those weaker than ourselves
Haven’t we torn at their throats
with continuos villainy and lust
Haven’t we experimented in our laboratories
before applying the final solution?
[…]
We condemn to death without emotion
and there’s no singular personal death to be had
only an anonymous cheapened death
which we could dole out to entire nations
on a mathematical basis
until the time comes
for all life
to be extinguished
MARAT:
Citizen Marquis
you may have fought for us last September
when we dragged out of the goals
the aristocrats who plotted against us
but you still talk like a grand seigneur
and what you call the indifference of Nature
is your own lack of compassion
SADE:
Compassion
Now Marat you are talking like an aristocrat
Compassion is the property of the privileged classes
When the pitier lowers himself
to give to a beggar
he throbs with contempt
To protect his riches he pretends to be moved
and his gift to the beggar amounts to no more than a kick [lute chord]
No Marat
no small emotions please
Your feelings were never petty
For you just as for me
only the most extreme actions matter
MARAT:
If I am extreme I am not extreme in the same way was you
Against Nature’s silence I use action
In the vast indifference I invent a meaning
I don’t watch unmoved I intervene
and I say that this and this are wrong
and I work to alter them and improve them
The important thing
is to pull yourself up by your own hair
to turn yourself inside out
and see the whole world with fresh eyes
– Peter Weiss, Marat/Sade (1964), translated by Geoffrey Skelton
According to the records, it occurred at 7.58pm our time last night, which was a little after midnight local time. They keep saying it????s the largest earthquake in the world in 40 years – Susan Mernit’s blog quotes somebody saying that it even disrupted the earth????s rotation. I am typing this on Michelle????s laptop in the kitchen, with the tv on Newsworld, which is broadcasting BBC World, which is reporting on the earthquake…scenes of devastation, mud, ruin, ect. More than 11,000 people dead.Earlier this week, I was reading Goethe????s autobiography, and he talked about the Lisbon Quake of 1755, and how it made him question the reality of God. Whenever you read about the development of deism and atheism in the 18th Century Enlightenment, they speak of that earthquake. Here, in 2004 is our version. The difference is though, that without our communications tech, we would only hear about this disaster months from now, and by then with inaccuracy and embellishment.
This Earthquake follows exactly a year after the one that levelled Bam in Iran. From Wikipedia:
In December 26, 2003 at 1:56 AM UTC (5:26 AM local time) Bam Citadel — ‘the biggest adobe structure of the world’ — and most of the city of Bam proper were devastated by an earthquake. The USGS estimated its magnitude as 6.6 on the Richter scale. The BBC reported that ‘70% of the modern city of Bam’ was destroyed. The total death toll was given as 41,000 on January 17 but the latest estimate from Teheran has halved previous estimates to 26,271 deaths. An additional 10,000 – 50,000 were reported injured (this number is very uncertain, the morst appairing number is 30,000, which may have originated from an early Reuters report. The Iranian authorities does not seem to have given any injured quote). According to the Iranian news agency IRNA, the old Bam Citadel was ‘leveled to the ground’.”
For a while I subscribed to the USGS’ earthquake alerts, which taught me that earthquakes occur everyday somewhere in the world. So far today, there have been 139 earthquakes. Many of these are aftershocks from yesterday’s mega.
The following is a response to Jennifer McMackon’s question, “What do you mean when you say ‘…in today’s world, artists can’t afford the luxury of being insignificant…’ ? What makes art significant? What hampers the significance of art? And also why is it (insignificance) a luxury – what makes insignificance so expensive we can’t afford it?” Those questions were to earlier comments I left on the Zeke’s Gallery website regarding the posting Is the Horse Dead Yet? – Timothy
——————-
Luxury, in the sense that I meant it, is that which is not required, but is something that comes about when the basics are in place. I was reading Hume last night on how luxury is a dependable motivator – at least it was so from his 18th Century Scottish perspective. But culture – our work as artists – has always been a bit of a luxury. Once you got the food and shelter thing down, you can afford to use your time to think and create pretty things to trade later.
I realize that the present grant system the protests are trying to maintain is partially there so rent and food can be taken care of allowing the acquisition of the luxury of time. Here, ‘luxury of time’ can be defined as “useful through emptiness” – free time, empty of needing to be used otherwise (for survival), allowing it to be used to think and create.
Art has for most of its history had a certain practical significance but its uselessness (empty of meaning which would define it as necessary for survival) has made it luxurious. The wealthy collector spending a few million for an object or wall hanging today when the money (which should be understood as nothing more than a quantification of the planet’s material resources) could have been put to better use, signals status, and by definition makes the object a luxury.
The statement in question was in part my way of agreeing with Chris [Hand, of Zeke’s Gallery]’s point that collectors are willing to spend big bucks for American works – as Nicolas Bourriaud (a fave of mine) has said nicely – ‘they’re buying a signature’ and not much else – while Canadian artists continue to be overlooked by both the international and internal markets. Of course, as AA Bronson has pointed out above [in previous comments to the post this is a reponse to], there are exceptions which can make the thought of being ignored seem ridiculous. However, I don’t think it is a far-fetched thing to say. The Ken Danby show which opened earlier this month got coverage on the CTV 11.30 news and the show itself on CBC evening news a few days later. (Bronson’s show last year at the Power Plant got neither). And while Danby may seem to be an example of interest in a contemporary Canadian artist by the internal market, the point I’m trying to make is of all the openings held week after week, month after month – how often to do you see television news cameras, except at those openings by those few who have managed through luck and circumstance, to rise to the top of the hierarchy, those whose names are known, so that collectors would want to buy their signature for top dollar?
Please spare me counter-arguments based on the idea that television and the media in general shouldn’t mater. They do matter, and our absence from being represented on it means something. [2004.11.28 7.05pm – Of course, there’s always Zed, but I think the point still stands – Tim].
In saying that artists can’t afford the luxury of being insignificant, the idea is that the Canadian art scene, as I know it, doesn’t seem to care about success, as it’s traditionally understood. Instead it is actively pursuing the development of a theory of failure, which seems to be both misguided and self-destructive by design. Artists are choosing to be insignificant because they have the luxury of doing so. They have the luxury of doing so because of their perceived dependency on the granting agencies, and they are full of socialist ideologies preventing them from wanting to participate within the capitalist system.
I used to be as decidedly ideological about socialism as the rest, but we have to face the fact the capitalism is here for a long haul. There’s simply too much momentum behind it that without a catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions the system won’t change soon. At best, we can use the system to accomplish socialist objectives, but we can’t replace it. The Canadian system of socialized programs and free market capitalism works, but it isn’t perfect, as recent obsessions over health care show. The Council’s effort to embrace the market as the real arbiter of value and to encourage artists to put more consideration into their career by concentrating on shows doesn’t strike me as such a bad idea. It seems like it’s worth a try.
We need to ask, why is capitalism, a system whose faults are glaringly obvious to those who can think, so popular? I’ve just said that the market is the arbiter of value, and it is. Now, I’m not a neo-con by any means, I don’t believe in talk of invisible forces, but before artschool I studied anthropology, so I understand the market as the space by which we trade our objects, our goods. Nicholas Bourriaud is the co-director of the Palais de Tokyo in Paris; a centre modeled on the idea of the market in Marrakech. The idea being that you have lots of exhibitions where you chose to show interest in, and interact with artists as you would a merchant – communicating in a way so that you are ‘sold’ on the work, or you tell them their price is too high and move on to something else. In art, in luxury, in anything, it’s only worth something if somebody wants it. Hume’s line of thinking was that because people usually want luxurious items, they will work to obtain them. I mean, we’re living in North America because four centuries ago, Europe had an unhealthy obsession with gold, which I consider worthless because I have no particular desire to own any.
The debate over artist-run centres and funding changes are focusing on the idea that artists and artist-run centres are engaged in research and publication, as if they were scientific – AA’s example above. I guess this means they are supposed to be creating the language of a future market – creating the interest so that people will want to own either this work, or work like it, in the future. AA’s definition of success above is that his work is the collections of various big-name institutions. The market of the international institutions bought the work. And that was only made possible through the combined efforts of many people, critics and artist-run centres who were operating in a different time. I think it’s fair to say that if AA were 25 today, he wouldn’t get anywhere.
People don’t want our shit, they want Manzoni’s, because he had critics who were ready to embrace the possibility his ideas represented and communicated that, so that he made it into art history and we take his work seriously. Critics in the traditional media rarely review artist-run centres. When they do, they are usually uncritical, but instead are full of praise because they don’t want hurt any feelings. Friends review friends. We always want to be able to look someone in the eye so we don’t tell them when they suck. In science – peer reviewed journals keep the crap out. They aren’t afraid to tell others when they suck. Scientists develop enough self-critical awareness to know when to avoid wasting someone’s time, which I consider the worst thing you can do as an artist. Of course, that itself is a can of worms – I’d like to think that it’s the critics job to help us know when our time is being wasted or not, and while highly subjective, criticism is based on the idea that subjective response is predictable. If you want to adopt the idea that artist-run centres are presentations of zeitgeist and trend research, then you have to be happy when someone dismisses the work.
As Churchill said about democracy, capitalism may seem to be the worst system except for the others that have been tried. As intelligent citizens, we must accept the capitalist system and work within it to make it work for us. We must be engaged with our society, or society will screw us over, as it is doing. We’re all supposed to be upset about the CC changes -we’re having these debates -but it has merited only a brief mention on the CBC website. Again, another example of traditional media’s obsolescence. But also an example of how the editors of the nation’s news don’t consider what we’re doing newsworthy. We are insignificant. We will continue to be insignificant – the fantasy that we might be able to live off our work as artists elsewhere, (or further up the ladder, by those who began climbing in different times), will continue to be a fantasy as long as we continue to alienate ourselves.
Believing the status quo is fine is a sign of conservatism. I want to be recognized by this society as valuable for what I am as a cultural worker, and not be forced into the humiliating economic position that three-grand grants are supposed to be worth pursuing. How about 50 grand a year grants? How about treating artists like doctors, and giving them a salary so they aren’t forced into the nonsense of academia, if they are so valuable to society, and if socialism is really worth pursuing in this case? What clerk in any corporation is asked to work for free and support themselves with a menial, or infrequent part-time job on the side? I know, there are interns, but interns usually have some money behind them allowing them to do that, with the expectation they will be fully employed one day. And the money supporting interns is usually inherited, is from a livable grant, or is a student loan which they’re supposed to pay off later. A system of perpetual internship, as the art world seems to be, is broken and needs fixing.
The expectation that as cultural workers-and-thinkers we have to work a paying job as well as pursue our careers as cultural workers-and-thinkers, and go through the grant-lottery so that we might be able to take some ‘time-off’ is unfair, and is only perpetuated by the myth of the starving artist and the fact that artists through behavior and attitude have alienated themselves from public sympathy, so what’s news for ‘us’ is not ‘for them’. Do you really want to live the rest of your life this way?
So, I’m torn between wanting to have money in the bank because a collector is willing to give me some in return for something I made, or because s/he was taxed so that the government can give it to an agency, so that my peers (who I can’t criticize lest they develop a negative bias) can in turn deem me worthy. And even if they do deem me worthy, the funds being limited may mean that the process of filling out forms was pointless. The Right hate taxes because they would prefer the first model – the collector choosing to support me – is better than the second, where the government gives ‘their’ money to things which they don’t agree with. Obviously we need a better understanding of taxes, but this current animosity, and the reasons the CC has limited funds, is partially because artists have adopted a position where they believe being offensive is a measure of success.
Artists may have the right to offend the Right Wing but we need more sincere effort of explanation and less intellectual posturing which assumes attitudes of superiority. Lets also consider the following: how many of us got into the arts because it was cool – going along with that concept’s fifty year history of pissing off the establishment? How many of us, in turn, got into the arts because we wanted to bring beauty to the lives of ourselves and others? Even within the art world, it seems, people are motivated by selfishness (the cool right) and by compassion (the beautiful left).
Ultimately, I think, I’d like to see artists embrace the 21st Century rather than continue to romanticize the late 20th. It is not fair to think that the Canada Council’s programs, nor our whole artworld infrastructure, as sustainable as anything else within the current system manifested by its bureaucracies. By all accounts, today’s world system is not sustainable. We can’t count on our future being the same as it has been. The world ten years from now will be in the process of cleaning up the mess of the past 40 including the Republican disaster of our present.
Within any bureaucracy, change only comes in response to problems. The happy-go lucky vagueness of a system gets increasingly tied down until policy is so rigid it becomes inhuman. That describes a process where the present emerges out of shortsighted decisions, rather than envisioning a future and making decisions based on its goal. I assume that the current petition is based on the idea that the CC is being shortsighted, which is a lot to assume since the Council engaged in a process of consultation, and tried to engage the Canadian art community. But it is shortsighted of artists to assume things are fine as they are.
Envisioning a future is a process that on the one hand can give our country a patriated constitution, Bill of Rights, and Universal Health Care, but it can also create fascism. The fascist history of the last century seems to have created a fear that ‘vision’ is the same as ‘ideology’, and prompts talk, as John Ralston Saul points out, of ‘inevitability’. The current fashion of equating vision with ideology has encouraged our infamous shortsightedness, as we’re afraid to look past the horizon, and continue with band-aid solutions to larger systemic problems. Since artists are the ones this society trains and educates to envision, we should at least be trying to fulfill that role instead of poeticizing failure and the abject, considering offense a success, and only mobilizing when the Canada Council wants to modify its bureaucracy. The envisioning I see in contemporary art seems to be more or less based on “look at me” than inspiring people that life is worth living and that a better future is worth working for. The best art wakes people up to what is possible, not the brilliance of your ego.
So, what I meant by that statement is this: artists are ignorable because they are ignoring society. Ignoring society is a luxurious position. It’s what the whole idea of the ivory tower is about. But in order to demand more respect for ourselves, we need to be respectful to begin with. By being insignificant, the government can screw us over with ‘chump change’. By becoming significant, collectors will want to buy our work, and we can have better lives. We can become significant by producing work that people actually like, and not by asking for their continual indulgence. Collectors will be more responsive to work people like, because as eBay has shown, people will buy any crap touched by celebrity. Take Canadian literature – anybody ever heard of a girl named Atwood? It’s not like she sold out; my copy of The Handmaid’s Tale has study questions appended to it.
If we don’t want to be dependent on collectors, we need the government to take us more seriously. But that won’t happen unless the public in general takes us more seriously. And that won’t happen until we stop being assholes be treating everyone who disagrees with us as simply conservative, instead of trying to be convincing. The real conservatives are the ones who won’t let themselves be convinced, who prefer ‘golden age’ scenarios to the reality of an ever changing world.
“What century lies before us? The passing of Bloomsday this week made evident that while significant things happened in June 1904, it wasn’t until the 1920s that they were made known. Yesterday the prospect of a 22nd Century with coastal cities underwater as depicted in A.I. seemed all too probable. The prospect of a Conservative Government next month, and the ad on the radio for “free gas” shows how dangerously disengaged people are. Historians can call this period The Democratic Crisis. Last century showed us that times would change after a great war, that society before 1914 was still very much that of the 19th Century; we have no marker to delimitate the actual context for our time. Terrorist attacks are nothing more than spectacular fireworks, but they have not yet led to a conference to develop new treaties and new territories.”
My friend Izida and I were born 20 days apart on opposite sides of the world. She in Riga and I in Toronto. The circumstances of time have given her dual citizenship in three countries, one of which no longer exists. In January we’ll both be turning 30, and over the past month, as our friendship cemented itself outside of the vagueness of merely being acquainted, we’ve often described our ages to one another as being 30 although we are 29, and talked about what this means to us, how this chronological fact is modifying our perceptions of ourselves, how it is changing our lives.
We’ve been breathing air on our own for 29 years, but it is not entirely inaccurate to call ourselves 30 since three decades ago we were floating in our mother’s amniotic fluid, experiencing in an unconscious way this thing we later learned to call a body, or in Izida’s case, ??. Izida tells me she doesn’t remember Russia, from which she immigrated in 1980 at age 5. Her earliest recollections are of kindergarten in a synagogue basement in Winnipeg, sitting on the floor listening to people speak a language she didn’t understand and picking sparkles out of shag carpeting. These sparkles were her first Canadian treasures. She would bring them home, wet from the sweat in her hand, and hide them in her bedroom. My earliest memories go back to 1976, when my mother was pregnant for my sister. In 1981, I moved from Toronto’s west end borough Etobicoke to Clare, an area of Nova Scotia where my forefathers had lived since the late 18th Century.
A memory that works well means you begin to be dumbfounded one day, once those memories begin to pile up. Things that happened ten years ago can seem like something that happened last month. But this also confirms what adults tell you as you’re growing, that although their chronological age may be one thing, they feel like they’re another, an age quite young. My mother tells me she feels 19 although she is in fact 61. I escape this by being clever; I say that I’ve continued to grow and mature as I learn and experience new things, so I don’t feel like I did a year before and so on. But this is merely qualifying the fact that I recognize myself as an approximation of the person I was at 17, only with the issues that plagued me then resolved and new issues developing as I approach this 3rd decade.
It would be a fantasy if I tried to ignore the fact that I’ve grown up in a world enthralled by it’s extended nervous system, as McLuhan called our media technology. Approaching 30 means that I’ve become an adult without pretense toward being one, as one can be accused at 20. When I was growing up in the 1980s, there was a popular TV show called “Thirty-Something”. It was popular because it offered those boomers born in the 1950s a theatre by which they could explore the meanings and responsibilities of that age. They could articulate their anxieties and deal with their issues, issues of having survived the 1960s and 1970s, and the threat of the Cold War which caused them to question their future and perhaps encouraged their “live for today” irresponsibility and selfishness. Not that I ever watched it, after all, it was for ‘grown-ups’ and I was much more interested at that point in the new Star Trek show, but this is the understanding I bring to it today, being aware through osmosis of its popularity. I was perhaps a bit more aware of it than I would have been because it had more resonance on me, since one of the characters was played by an actor who shared my name, Timothy Busfield. Born in 1957 he is now approaching 50. (Some Google-fact checking reveals to me that this show ran from 1987-1991, although I would have guessed before that it had ran around 1983/84. While memory may contextualize one’s life, how often are those memories inaccurate?)
So what being 30 means to me is that I am now the subject of “grown-up” shows. And this is something which is a bit hard to accept about oneself in our culture as youth-obsessed as it is. It is so difficult to conceptualize that one feels the need to type out thoughts about it. What it means is that after spending three decades experiencing the world for the first time in a variety of ways, one has never been taken seriously by older folk. “Oh you’re just a kid” is heard over and over again. I am not expected to contribute anything significant – which is precisely why youthful stars and those called genius are considered so remarkable. I feel like many of my peers have never had the opportunity to experience themselves as anything other than someone youthful and not to be taken seriously and so they embrace that, feeling adulthood to be boring and limiting to their sense of fun, a sense which can make them as devilishly selfish as those boomers who have earned our loathing for leaving us a legacy of improvishment.
There is something else happening to us though, those of us 30-something both present and new. It is the fact that many of us feel that our age expectancy is not the official 70 something years, but having witnessed our grandparents live into their 80s and 90s, and those many that have lived past 100 have given us the idea that we too shall probably live at least as long. I myself think I’ll have an 80th birthday one day, and hope for the 100th as well. But perhaps we’re the first generation that will make living past 110 normal, in which case, being 30 means we are still as young and adolescent as many of us feel. An example I once came across illustrates this: if the age span was extended toward 250 years, meaning one at 247 was biologically equivalent to a contemporary 97 year old, then it would follow logically that for a given individual, puberty would only occur in their 30s. They wouldn’t reach their adult equivalent of our present 30 until their mid 70s. Over and over again in my journals, throughout my 20s, I’ve hoped that I’ll have a life span that makes my present concerns and problems as irrelevant to who I will be in old age as the misery of needing to have my diaper changed is to me now – a problem I’m sure I experienced but have no memory of and completely irrelevant to my problems today.
Turning 30 means that as an adult, I can no longer expect the sympathy bestowed on the naive. I am expected to be worldly and knowledgeable; to have confidence and not have to rely on others. The fact that my bank account is perpetually empty and I currently live on credit cards, dependent on my parents for meals and a roof, is not evidence of some youthful misadventure and indiscretion. It only reflects that I made a bad choice when figuring out a career – I decided to be an artist, a field which expects much without offering a guaranteed salary. I find myself in the ironic position of being extremely well educated and intelligent, believing that knowledge and powers of mind to be a form of wealth in which I am well stocked yet I have been unable to find a market of exchange where I can trade portions of this commodity for cash, to be able to become financially independent and secure. My issues today centre on trying to become concsious of whatever unconscious behavior I engage in which allows me to be free to read and work on my art projects while beating myself up for not having a regular 9-5 job which would provide for a healthy bank account and the sense of financial freedom while killing my soul by not allowing me to flower in the particular sunlight I need, that of learning and expression. My issues today centre on acquiring the independence expected of my age.
My peers, bruised by their experiences of family, do not understand how I can still live at home with my increasingly aging parents, nor can they understand why my sister would chose this as well. The sad truth is that so many of us, children of the 1970s, have found themselves in situations where it is difficult for them to get a foothold in the job-place and to be paid a salary sufficient for them to lead independent lives. This is true throughout the Western world. The issues that hovered over my psychology as a man in his early 20s have been replaced by “when can I move out? When can I get a full time job?” to say nothing of what I’m supposed to feel as a graduate of an art school: “when to I get that big solo show?” which I’ve come to see as not worth desiring anymore. Art has proven itself a mistress and now it’s time to find a wife.
One wants to contribute to society in a way that allows at least a salary, and at most, a contribution to the betterment of the planet. The world as it is in 2004, when I find myself less than 6 months from my 30th birthday, is so fucked up. However, that has been true for generations of 29 year olds. A Frenchmen born in 1759 would have written the same thing as someone from Massachusetts born in 1746, to say nothing of those who were born in 1910. The revolutions of history have given us a perpetual beta world in which change is commonplace and the displeased seek to rectify out of boredom and anger with their circumstance.
I for one am confident that the problems of the world today are constructed out of the idiocy of gray men with gray ideas. The War on Terror is as artificial as the War on Drugs and will not be won by a generation who’s mindset was formed during the Cold War; Israel and the conflicts of the Middle East will not be pacified by a government born in the 1920s, nor a generation who considers democracy optional. A generation which came of age at a time when the introduction of environmental legislation was considered controversial is not equipped to deal with the issues of global warming.
The habit of declaring “War” on our societal inconveniences and problems which have everything to do with a economic inequality and insufficient education will not solve these perpetuated problems which have nothing to do with simply being criminal behavior. A generation of men who have done a bad job of integrating women’s perspectives and who find glory in combative approaches are doomed to be the thought of as pathetic leaders for the rest of time, enshrined in the embarrassed conversations that will go like this: “How could they?” “I know I know…”. We are left waiting for them to remove themselves from the scene so that we can begin to clean up their mess.
Television and print news perpetuate certain world problems as being relevant, while doing a bad job of informing us on other more devastating conditions (such as the economic development of the Third World, or Africa’s devastating plague which represents an cruel economic inhumanity on the part of the west) means that yes, today’s “problems” are solvable because they are artificially important. The biggest problems, such as the economic inequalities which have led to the chaos of Africa and the Middle East, require new paradigms and perspectives that at this point can only be offered by the young. The future belongs to those of us for whom women in the workplace, environmental concern, and social critique are ambient and as such we have never known a world without them. Those of us who are presently 30 something, will be leaders and mentors to the true inheritors of the future, that mass of young people outnumbering 30 and 40 something Gen X and known as Generation Y, who I am told, are confident of their ability to change the world for the better.
Last week I picked up Guns N Roses Greatest Hits. When GnR first came out, I was 12, and it was the 1980s. I remember when we were having the garage built in the backyard, my sister’s friends were over and they put Appetite for Destruction in the cassette player, and sang along with Paradise City. These kids were eleven or so.
To any 11 year old today, GnR are what the Beatles were to me then. Rockstars from “twenty years ago”.
A social life in the present turn of the century dismisses the interest I have in the far future of the mid-22nd Century, but a recent conversation on the nature of contemporary art has given me a new perspective to make it that much more tangible. I was saying how when I look at art I’d like to think that it would one-day hang in New York’s Metropolitan or the AGO (though the National Gallery in Ottawa would be more apropos). That is, I’d like to think that anything I make or see will still be around for my great-grandkids’ great grandkids to see. Some quick math estimating a generation to be approximately 30 years and guessing that I might have children within a decade places that generation of lineage in the mid 22nd Century.
Although I didn’t use this generational marker in the conversation, only naming the museums, the reply was that contemporary art is so fashionable: that like clothing, it fades in popularity and disappears. It becomes dated. The effect of being dated is precisely why I find the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia embarrassing. Two many hard edged color field paintings – that medium’s response to 1970s conceptualism. Art now favors the museuological rather than the salon – the presentation of work to be admired or contemplated. We preserve these fashion items for the future bewilderment of folks living in a world not such as ours. The way that we now preserve contemporary fashion for historical curiosity, rather than examples of human achievement, is illustrated by the V & A’s acquisition of Vivian Westwood’s Moc-Croc shoes, which “became world-famous when Naomi Campbell wore them on the runway – and tripped and fell! They remain one of the popular displays at the Victoria and Albert Museum.”
That incident occurred in 1993. Naomi Campbell is now 34 and increasingly disappearing from the spotlights which graced her chocolate features throughout the 1990s.
I’m currently a little tired of overhearing aggressive Scotsman on TV. There is currently an angry Scotsman on commercials for Alexander Keith’s, Kellog’s Nutra-Grain Mini-Bites and Money Mart. What’s horrible about them all is that they all seem based on Mike Myers’ “If it’s not Scottish, it’s crap!” skit from his SNL days over ten years ago, and expanded upon in his 1993 film, So I Married an Ax Murderer. The angry Scottish father’s rant about his son’s big head is lifted almost verbatim in the Mini-Bites commercial.
These commercials alone tell me that people my age, who were in late teens and early 20s a decade ago are now working for advertisement agencies. The dynamic would appear to be:
“Hi, welcome to a position of power and influence. Let’s see what you’ve got”
“I’ll just check into my limited imagination and rip off something funny from my youth, which wasn’t so long ago. By the way, I’m still young, god forbid I get old and boring. Now, what do I have here? An obscure ethnic stereotype made popular by one of our country’s greatest comics ‘to have made it big in the States since he’d have no career in Canada’ yadda yadda, ‘considering we don’t pay our cultural workers, nor do we support them in any fundamental way through network broadcasting or other media promotion’ yadda yadda.”
“Oh, if it’s not Scottish it’s crap! That’s great! Sounds good! Everyone knows we’re a Scottish company!”
Now, Alex Keith was a Scotsman, and that’s the whole point of this commercial. But the other two?
Consider this a fuck you to said companies and advertising agencies. It’s not funny, it’s irksome, and it inspires my boycott instincts.
Having returned from The Passion of the Christ I can now understand what the so-called fuss is all about. There is an element of shallowness to it, but it is all the shallowness of Catholic Sunday school. Nothing has so reminded me of the hours spent learning that story as a child. Now, from those days, the only things I can remember learning are mathematics and about Jesus. Whatever else I studied then was built upon and overlaid by more sophisticated knowledge and is part of the archeology of my character, but the Jesus stuff always floated above that, as basic life lessons. I was thinking yesterday of how I’ve always taken the idea of “feeding the spirit” seriously, from the teaching, “Man cannot live on bread alone, but also by the word of God”. It was explained that just as the body needs food, so does the soul. This lesson happened at around the same time as some Participation campaign teaching about “a healthy mind and a healthy body” so the spirit thing became associated with mental health and made a lot of sense.
It seems to me now that Catholicism was something some of my teachers must have had a passion themselves for, since they infused with a certain wonder, and that left an impression. Watching this film brought this all back, because of the way they described his torture, “They did this to him, they did that…” and their imaginations were more vivid that what I imagined in turn. But now watching this movie, I feel I understand it much more. Every other film version has sanitized it. I’m sure it really was that bad in a way. That being said, I felt that by adhering to the Gospels so closely, and by thus making it so Sunday school, it all become suspect. The Aramaic and Latin work but barely …. even I could tell that the Latin pronunciation was execrable.
As for not providing enough context – the context is there, but it’s subtle and easy to miss. But it’s also silly to ask Gibson to do that, since this movie does have a novelization after all. Which raises the other point, that the Gospels are examples of the ancient west’s novel, and so it shouldn’t be assumed that everything is accurate, but it can be assumed that there is embellishment and dramatization. I really doubt Jesus was mobbed that way, although that is based on something … and I don’t remember anything in the Sunday schooling about an earthquake.
There are two things that were running through my mind. No three actually. One was Gibson’s statement in one of the interviews where he said that whether we like it or not, the history of humanity is tied up in this man. And that is true, though it is also true of Achilles, Hitler, Genghis Khan, Julius Caesar, Confucius, Christopher Columbus, and any other historical and/or semi-fictional figure you could think of.
The second was the issue of its truth. A scholar of early Christianity once pointed out that some of this stuff might be true, because it would have been too far fetched otherwise. A virgin birth, for example, would have been as absurd then as now, so why repeat it for 2000 years if it wasn’t based on something that could be believed by those who witnessed it, or knew those who had? We know that novel situations create tales, and so the tale of Jesus carrying the whole cross with a scourged body (which scholars are now saying wouldn’t have happened) would have been such to set tongues wagging to such an extent that it could have been written down within 100 years when the Gospels were created.
Now the third was its secular aspect. Jesus talking to the sky is Jesus talking to the sky – in my contemporary secularism, there are times when you think, this poor guy, suffering all this for a delusion. And I think that’s not entirely wrong – not a failure of the movie. You watch this, and you see a nice guy with a philosophy of love in a world of brutality, and a self-conviction that he had a relationship to clouds and he was executed for it. That to me is the story.
The amazement that created in such a brutal and inhumane world was enough to call make him a god and build a religion around it. The success of Christianity is this secular world where we now tolerate and are kind to one another. For all the shit raised by the present day Christians in their bad suits and bad haircuts, at least we aren’t torturing them for it, and at least we know that prosecuting homosexuals, abortionists and dare I say it, jews and muslims, is wrong wrong wrong, because of the foundation of compassion that the institution of the Church built into Western society through 1500 years and without making egregious mistakes of its own along the way. The Church may not have always practiced what it preached, but the secular world does. So thank Jesus for Gay Marriage. (And it should be pointed out that although the United States, the most self-consciously Christian country in the world, appears often to be no better than ancient Rome, with it’s fondness for execution and prosecution of non-conformity, we also know that it is simply a matter of time before a reformation of their society takes place).
This movie inspires nothing in me that makes praying the Rosary make any more sense, or that praying in general is any more worth my time. It????s a story about the furless apes and their funny ideas and their capacity to cruelly torture one another. There are times when you wince. I found my jaw clenched with a tension. It isn’t nice to see someone brutalised, but the reaction is dulled by the knowledge that he’s wearing a slashed flesh-toned suit. So in the end it left me sobered, but not any more moved than usual. Aesthetically it was well done. The opening sequence, from Full Moon to Gethesmane, was masterful. It really is very much an animated painting. However, by the end of the film, there were people in a row behind me crying. I knew this because their sniffling was added to the soundtrack, and made me do a double take.
I like b-ball caps cause they keep the sun out my eyes. That’s the biggest reason I wear them, since I don’t own a pair of sunglasses. I also wear baseball caps cause it’s a habit, a personal tradition. This developed in the early 90s. In my high school graduation group photo, I’m the only one wearing a hat (cause it was blue cordroy and it rocked -and it was sunny out that day). While reaching for a hat I’m often reminded of my days in university residence, when I was scolded by a patriarchal figure for going to class with bedhead. “At least put a hat on for god’s sakes!” he said. Because of the good times I had then, and the fact that we all wore baseball hats in residence, the tradition that began as a teenager was nurtured. I remember at the time being fond of the Tragically Hip song, “50 Mission Cap”, whose main lyric “I worked it in to look like that” seemed to exemplify the relationship one has with ones hat – as you work it in as it accompanies you through these experiences that live on in memory.
Sometimes I feel more comfortable with something on my head. I’ve worn other hat styles, but because of the ubiquity of baseball hats, wearing other styles usually draws for more attention than I’d like. You end up talking about the stupid hat you’re wearing. That quality of anonymous ubiquity I find appealing. You can do the whole “something on your head” thing without being too warm in a toque, keep the sun out of your eyes, and not draw undue attention to yourself.
I’m glad that there are no photographs of me from the 1980s wearing acid wash. As well, I managed to make it through the 90s without getting a tattoo. But the one area fashion area where I don’t mind following the crowd is to wear the baseball hat, since they are the contemporary tricorn. An example of this is how last summer during the previews for the new Star Trek show, they had scenes with the mid 22nd Century characters wearing baseball hats, which was meant to convey that they were more contemporary then the 23rd and 24th Century characters known from the previous series.
I’ve never been that much of a fashion conscious person, having known far more fashion victims than actual fashionable people, but I did become concerned a few years back that I wouldn’t date photographs correctly. It’s an interesting feature of fashion that one can date a photograph by what people are wearing; to within a decade when you’re dealing with obviously 20th Century photos. This is something I like about fashion in general, how it corresponds to that which we know by those two German words: the Kunstwollen and the Zeitgeist. It reveals something intrinsic about the human character’s need to belong to some group. As the anthropologists say, we are social animals and we wear clothes that reflect our tribal allegiances. Besides keeping the sun out of my eyes, and my hair in place, they help me date future photographs, and I can feel like I’m participating in a fashion sense particular to now.
Why did you paint the timeline?
I had found this website, artandculture.com, and there amongst the
other flashy graphics was a timeline. Under each artist’s name, there
was this timeline and two lines: lived and worked. I thought it was one
of the best graphics describing that information that I had ever seen.
Everything, its coloring and the font, made it very elegant.
I was also at the time reading a book called A Short History of the
Future, by W. Warren Wagar. This was a book that in a way I had
wanted to read for ten years. It had originally been published in 1989,
but I only fond it in the winter of 2000. I have always been interested
in the future as it has been depicted in the media. While growing up I
regularly became a fan of whatever TV show had some basis in the
future, which usually revolved around the year 2000.
Anyway, here was this book, presenting possible future scenarios for
the next two hundred years. I wanted to make a graphic displaying this
information, and that line on the artandculture site “showed me how” as
it were. So I drew it up one night on the computer. Aliens was on TV.
Here I was, one future scenario on TV to my left, the ones in the book
in my head, and then the Timeline on the screen in front of me. So
simple, the centuries that we are dealing with, that some of us will live
through. It’s quite possible that many of us born in the late 20th Century
will die in the 22nd Century. That’s what they keep telling us anyway.
So here was the field in which our being would play out.
And I also liked the fact that the Timeline, as a painting, had a lifespan
in terms of centuries. That it would exist for all of these years that it
depicts. That at the time of its creation, we can only fill in the details up
to the year 2000. But each block represents a decade, in which major
news stories occur. In the 90s there was the Oklahoma city bombing,
which I always think about, since it sort of came out of nowhere and
splashed itself across the mindscape of the time. And then there were
all the high school massacres. These weren’t predictable occurrences
based on trends at the time – no one could have forecast that in 1989.
But now, we say, they could happen again. Wager’s book is about
following contemporary trends to their logical conclusions. But time is
fluid, that ‘s one thing that keeps getting taught in time travel stories:
hat nothing is set in stone except the past, and even that can become
malleable through deconstruction. What fascinates me is what will we
fill those blocks with, those things that we can’t imagine happening
today.
And during that time, while we are busy creating crazy and memorable
history, that painting will be there, witnessing them, its oil paint
continually solidifying and gelling. Perhaps cracks will appear on its
surface. Its not immune to the effects of time, even though its place
within it is as a witness.
Why did you paint the postcard?
Initially it was because it looked so luscious that I wanted to put it into
paint. It cried out for the buttery texture of oil paint. But the thin is that
it too has been a witness. When I first found these postcards in the
store, I began to look for everyday images of the past. It was interesting
to see ones that had been sent by soldiers during the world wars. As
such, they were historical documents that were being ignored because
they were so common. But I grew up anticipating the future. I grew up
surrounded by old things, and knew that as I got older, their status as
historical objects rose.
The postcards are rich little semiotic fragments. The handwriting, the
imagery, they are documents of a time that was once common, but is
now gone. Yet these things survive. I have one that is really sweet…a
young girl wrote to her father and asked him to send her toothbrush.
But you know, this is a hog bristle toothbrush, and what they called
toothpaste none of us would recognize. Perhaps this girl is still alive,
she’d be in her 90s now. I’, more inclined to think that she’s dead, one
of the reasons her old postcards would end up in a used bookstore. But
the thought is that she lived out her life, gotten married and had
children – all the things that we are familiar with from award winning
novels. And here is a fragment from one of that story’s earliest chapters,
when the book was new and crisp.
To: Blake Gopnik
From: “Timothy Comeau” at Internet
Subject: please consider the following
Date: 3/22/2000 8:32 PM
Dear Mr. Gopnik,
I hope that you are not to busy so that you can take time to read my letter. I wrote the following excerpt as part of a letter to a friend of mine in BC, last night. After reading your article this morning, I thought this is something I’d like to submit for your consideration. (I am a recent NSCAD graduate and attended the presentation you gave there last spring).
I remember an article you wrote in December 1998 after you visited Art Metropole, and the theme of consumerism entering the realm of art appeared again in this morning’s article. It is for this reason that I would like your thoughts regarding this excerpt.
In the letter I basically expressed how buying certain art supplies, for computer based art, seems like an extravagance, because graphics software is so expensive:
*** “….I’ve never been competitive because basically I’m a sore loser and I decided early to avoid competition to avoid disappointment and frustration.
Unfortunately I did not realize how competitive life is in general. I’ve also been reflecting how I’ve patted myself on the back and called myself noble for certain qualities – which were no more than coping strategies. Now that I have employment and a descent wage, I feel greed and the consumerist impulse to define myself through acquisitions blossoming. Because now I have the means. To desire things when you are art-student poor is self-torture, but now…
and I don’t like this, but I wonder why should I deny myself things? How come everybody else gets to waste money on junk, and what I want is stuff that I actually feel I need, tools for my art practice.
Perhaps this questioning about buying art supplies is due to my uncertain commitment to being an artist. The art world system seems so wasteful and set for a toppling, so set for a fundamental paradigm shift, that I don’t want to begin swimming only to have to pool drained when I’m in the middle.
This feeling perhaps is a reflection of our changing times. There is an ad that I pass on my way to work that says basically, “just when i was ready to make the next move in my career, the industry has changed”.
And art seems so faddish and cultish and so much about identifying cliches and either associating yourself with them or moving away from them (either way the cliche is the center and source of your action, and we should link the word cliche with the word style) that it seems like certain death to get serious about art. I see so many of our colleagues out there and to me they’re like the Salon painters of 100 years ago. Which makes me think who is going to be the 21st Century’s Duchamp and exhibit a pisser? Does the 21st Century even have room for another art movement? Does art have a future?
I really would like to do webdesign. I’m thinking of taking a course. But the web seems faddish too. Sure, its here to stay, but right now its hot hot hot. How boring will it become? Like network television? But the remedy for boring network TV is the art video. So where are the art websites? I ask this rhetorically because such things are supposed to exist. How about this for an advant-garde site: you go to the url and your system crashes. Is that the equivalent of a pisser? Which to me raises two questions: are computer viruses the most eloquent form of computer art? And, to put a wall between you and your tool, is that what art does? Any thoughts?”
***
I would appreciate any feedback you might have.
Sincerely, Timothy Comeau
——————————————— From: bgopnik@globeandmail.ca
To: tcomeau45@hotmail.com Subject: Re: please consider the following
Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2000 11:14:19 -0500
Thanks for your note.
Just one thought: DO we have to buy in to the basically Romantic, avant-gardist view of the artist-as-rebel. I’m afraid that artists are inevitably closer to shoemakers or other craftspeople than to revolutionaries, and that we all might want to accept that, and go back to an older, Medieval view of the artist as purveyor of sensory and intellectual pleasures — since I think that probably is the inevitable reality.
Yrs, Blake Gopnik
———————————————
Subject: No subject given
Author: “Timothy Comeau”
Date: 3/23/2000 11:30 PM
Thank you for taking the time to respond. Regarding your comments: I entirely agree. Yet it seems simple to say in the forum of internet correspondence, yet when I am interacting with my artist peers and gallery going, it doesn’t seem that I am browsing shoes. To stretch that metaphor, I inevitably end up examining the stitching. If everybody is employing a standard stitch, isn’t the craftsman who uses a new design going against the flow, and thus acting revolutionary?
I find your response intriguing in many ways. I am especially intrigued by the notion of the return to a medievalist view. I mean, there’s the talk of the collapse of the nation state and the rise of the neo-city state to replace it, and what seems to be a decline in standards of education, leaving a large, tasteless populace (do you agree, or is this a crutched form of snobish thinking which seems to be the refuge of all the Bach lovers that have to listen to Nsync being piped in from somewhere?) contrasted by a minority of educated and “cultured” elites, and the rise of footnotes (by this I mean that the act of sourcing everything reminds me of the mediaeval scholastics who always assumed that some ancient source was a reliable authority).
This is partially why I am approaching you with these thoughts, given that as art critic for a national newspaper, I respect your “authority” on these matters. Art for me isn’t a matter of a weekend’s entertainment, but is an important social indicator, a status report on the state of society. Which is why I am so frustrated that art in the public sphere, and within the community, seems dominated by the cliches of the artist founded in the 19thCentury, like you pointed out. No we don’t have to buy into the view, but in my experience many people are wearing that uniform (which Katy Seigel described as “worker drag” in an article on Mathew Barney’s work, in last summer’s Artforum) (there you go, footnotes).
What do you think of that Mike Kelly and MacCarthy show? Doesn’t that show rely on artist as rebel a little? I mean the whole shock art thing as being the presentation of an enlightened view brought forth by artists who are critics of a culture dominated by sugarcoated elements, and thus acting revolutionary? To me it seems a little infantile, in an educated sort of way. I imagine your review will be appearing soon, so I’ll wait and see.
One question that I’d love to have you answer is: Given that I imagine the typical art experience in 2000 to be spending a few hours in a gallery, or browsing through monographs of artist’s work, what would the typical art experience be in 2100, considering that you believe that artist will be by then, “purveying sensory and intellectual pleasures,” as craftsmen?
I suppose you’ll tell me that my job as an artist is to figure that out.
Anyway, I hope this hasn’t been a bother for you, I’d like to know what you think.
Sincerly Timothy Comeau.
——————————————— From: bgopnik@globeandmail.ca
To: Subject: Re: No subject given
Date: Fri, 24 Mar 2000 11:38:10 -0500
Thanks for yours, Timothy. Afraid I don’t have time to digest its length and depth right now — deadlines call — but hope to take a closer read soon.
Today, the art object must compete with television. The medium of television, a reflection of the film, has elevated dialogue to an art form, much more than a play. The conceptual art object developed in the 1960s, the decade when TV began to come into its own, a decade after the medium became popular and widely available, the conceptual art object which embodies the conversation.
Turning on the television is allowing the conservation into your room, you get to overhear the stream, let the flood in. The audience members become an eavesdropper, an overhearer, an angel. (Television reverses the hierarchy of the divine – the audience become like angles knowing everything. The fan is like God who knows EVERYTHING that has been published and broadcast, but the fan is ignorant of their Being).
The art object must be independent but contain ideas. They are stimulants for conversation and personal growth. The art object embodies this because you will stare for hours at the television set, but not a painting. Paintings will only become part of the décor. People are watching TV, ignoring their art work.
Found within the opening pages of the February 1998 WorkbookThe beginnings of my manifesto, what I am doing, what my themes are.I. Doodles
You could say it began with Jerusalem, the drawing I did in 1994 and exhibited at Saint Mary’s. I could say that I was subconsciously aware of the stick figure as being a legitimate art technique, but being subconscious, it was bellow the surface. I was interested in learning to draw like Picasso – I didn’t pursue stick figures then.
I purchased Radiohead’s The Bends in October of that year. It had been released the previous spring. It contained stick figure scrawls of Stanley Donwood and Thom York. I looked with interest at first, but saw only “doodles” and left it. I did not then see it as art.
In December 1996 I was channel surfing and stopped briefly at the New Music, when they were interviewing k.d. lang. She picked up Basquiat Drawings (1990) and said how much she liked a particular drawing, ‘Plaid Plaid Plaid’ and commented that this explained lyrics to her. A few weeks later Dad surprised me by bringing this book home, which he found for $3.99.
This book inspired me as set me trying to incorporate text and imagery. That was in January 1997.
In June 1997, Radiohead released Ok Computer. Again there was the drawings of Stanley Donwood. I admired the design but again, thought little of it.
Then that September, I was walking through the halls of NSCAD when some signage drawn up by Tullis Rose caught my eye. My immediate thought was of OK Computer. Here were the sketches! Here was the same concept. This made me think that there was something more to these mere doodles.
Later, the same month, Randy Laybourne exhibited a collection of his drawings. Some where done spontaneously and shared that doodle quality.
In November, early November, this all coalesced and I collected Tullis’ ads where I could still find them. I copied out the drawings from the Radiohead CD booklets. Jessica Jones, who was a fellow student in Interim Painting, left some sketches laying around, on black paper done with chalk. The stick figures – I asked her for it but she wouldn’t part with them.
I sat out to understand the doodle. I began drawing doodles. And my tag in October which began as simple graffiti, but struck me for being so self-contained. (Five year old draw like that – every man is an artist -who drew this at age 5? Because I was drawing it at age 22).
Melinda gave us an assignment, to paint outdoors. She gave us a list of artists we might want to refer too. Basqiuat came up. I asked he why he was on the list. She said because he was a good urban artist, how he had responded to his city.
I bought two drawings from Randy. I doodled like crazy, trying to understand, and to find that which I liked in other’s in my own. Now, I see connections between Basquiat and Donwood, the other night finally recognizing the symbol from Henry Dreyfuss’ Symbol Sourcebook. Basquiat used some symbols from this book and so did Donwood.
Every man an artist – Life as art as being an organizer, a way of creating order in Postmodern fragmentation and disorder.
The importance of influencing others since we are all accumulations.
The appeal of the doodle is represented in the primacy nature of it – it’s simplicity, spontaneity, and what the Beats codified as “first thought best thought” . My own experience has show me that first thought best thought creates art that is inspired and caries that mark. There is no fear of the contrived. However, not all first thoughts are golden, and first thoughts often reside amongst the cultural cliches. First thought with awareness then.
And of course, the fact that anybody can do it.
II. Everyone an artist
Apparently it was Joseph Beuys who came up with that phrasing. But the idea isn’t that new or original. In 1966’s Creative Writer, a series of talks given on CBC’s radio program Ideas, the Canadian poet Earl Birney said:
“Some psychologists say, and I agree with them, that creativity is the sense of the drive to find new things, explore, discover, is basic to the human animal. I think all children who aren’t born into absolute idiocy are artistically creative. With a favorable kind of environment and education, most of them, I suspect, grow up retaining some creative powers as men and women. But there’s a strong urge to conform, to become dependent on others, to accept instruction, guidance, doctrine, to stop really thinking, or even feeling, for one’s self. Artists are people who resist this conforming pressure, at least with part of their energies.”
This is what Joseph Beuys refereed to – this basic factor is creativity, that we all create constantly. Beuys put it this way:Thinking Forms – how we mould our thoughts or Spoken Forms – how we shape our thoughts into words or Social Sculpture – how we live: Sculpture as an evolutionary process; everyone an Artist. Thorsten Scheer, on the website http://www.fh-furtwangen.de/~schoenfe/ep/ep963.html expands on this.
“Beuys’ plastic theory is not about plastic/sculpture in the traditional sense. It’s about form. In Beuys’ opinion, the central question of art is the question for the most suitable form. This means that _everything_ is a question of art, because _everything_ has to have a certain form: politics, communication, TV sets, words, e-mails… All you can imagine. But the question for the most suitable form does usually not occur until one has to work with real material. However, at first, there is a thought, an idea. The process to create a sculpture therefore emerges right the moment you get an idea. Ideas have to be shaped, constructed, put into form, just like material works. […] Living on this planet, in a society, _everything_ you do, every idea you have, all the stuff you create, every conversation you have (sending mail to Athena, too) shifts the state of the environment, creates form – therefore is sculpture..! You are responsible – no way out.
So take your life as a work of art with regard to society – the Social Sculpture.” This idea, that we are constantly responsible for everything we do, and that all acts are creative and thus artistic acts, is the beginning of my thoughts on art as an almost religious experience, capable of providing unity to life.
Everyone an artist though – I do not want to see every citizen of the world have a one man show. I believe that every human is a creative creature, as Earle Birney wrote. However, we are not all artists. Some of us are businessmen. Some of us are tradesmen. We are all born with different talents and interests. Artists are born. If you feel yourself to be athlete, then you are. This basic fact that we are all born different assures us that artists will have a place and that their gifts have a place. However, the nature of art changes and the nature of the artist changes. The nature of art must change and is changing.
In this new world I do not know what place the gallery has. This gallery, is a graveyard of ideas, a museum of trends, a sanctuary for ivory tower pansies.
III. Art Itself
Art itself – what is art? Art is the product of the artist. It is the by-product of the creative act. The creative act is an exploration, an attempt to understand. The creative act in the artist arises out of the need to understand something. Some idea ignites curiosity, desire, obsession. You want to wrap your brain around something. To od this, you reach out, explore a medium. Thought goes from ephemeral interior winds to physical manipulations of materials. The art object thus becomes a record of physic energies – a record and report by the artist. It is a hard copy of thought not in the usual word form, but in the form of shapes.
So this is what art is. Art is also that which enriches your experience, it is life affirming, it is beautiful. Much historical thought has gone into trying to define two things – God and Art. What is hard to define in both perhaps is the concept of beauty. It is beauty which is so subjective and which confuses the idea of what art is. Art as the totality of experience. The role of the artist is to affirm life. To show people what they are capable of.