bla bla blog

Baudelaire, Woolf, Hughes, Plato, Foucault
I must say, I really enjoyed all of the readings for this week...well, except for maybe the Foucault. The Langston Hughes piece was such an easy read, and really too short. I am glad we got to talk about a Hughes poem as well, in class, to fill it out a bit. The differences in the attitude of the poem and the essay was rather interesting. The poem seems to be earlier, from the title and attitude. His identity does not seem to be as...solidified, for lack of a better word. It is not surprising that he embraces his racial identity even as a young student (if this was indeed written when he was a student, which I will assume it was). I guess what appeals to me about the poem is that Hughes here is more individual, personal, I don’t know, kind of still developing,investigating, and questioning the place of the (black) artist in society, whereas the essay is much more didactic, trying to guide and advise Negro artists en masse. Perhaps this piece is different since it’s (presumable) audience is unique, in that it is a white professor, which is likely not an audience Hughes considers much later in his career. It does seem more honest, somehow...more genuine...less strident. But I liked the essay a lot when I read it. Especially the descriptions of jazz, and the types of negro audiences to literature. I did have a bit of a knee jerk negative reaction to his negative reaction against the negro poet who "wanted to be a poet". I think it is much more complicated than "wanting to be white"...I have often wanted to be considered for what I do, not as what I do in relation to being a woman...or whatever classification people use to define me. I don’t think this is because I want to be a man, but in part, maybe it is, because I want to be treated with the same respect and consideration as a man traditionally is, in our society.
This seems like a good segue to the Woolf. Again, I have to complain that the excerpt we read was just too short. For one thing, we didn’t even get much about the necessity independence and the female author, the theory behind the title. I think that part of the talk is fundamental, especially after the desolation of Shakespeare’s Sister. But, such is the pitfall of the ubiquitous anthology. Sigh! The points Woolf makes about female characters before Austen being portrayed from the perspective of and only in relation to men is true, and depressing. Is it really true, though, that men cannot write female characters convincingly, and vice versa? I like to think not, but then, I believe in very few fundamental differences between men and women, though there are many societally inscribed differences, which may amount to the same thing, in the long run. Upon reading this, I am reminded of a movie from a few years ago, "As Good as it Gets", with Jack Nicholson. Jack, a novel writer, is asked by a fan "How do you write women so well?" His smart ass reply is:
"I think of a man, then I take away reason and accountability". Naturally I don’t agree, but it is an interesting conundrum.
I am definitely going to address Baudelaire, but I think I will save it for the final project. So, I will sign off for now. Hope everyone has a nice, relaxing thanksgiving. Bye all!
Jenni
PS - we took Brianna to the Dr yesterday, it looks like she had a strep infection, but has gotten over it on her own...she is doing much better today. Thanks everyone for the concern and inquiries.

The Virgin of the Rocks (infrared reflectogram)
(this is all from the London National Gallery)
Full title: 'The Virgin of the Rocks' (infrared reflectogram)
Examination of the 'Virgin of the Rocks' by the Gallery's team of experts revealed two distinct underdrawings beneath the surface of the painting. Though one drawing corresponds with the final version of the painting, another shows a completely different picture of a kneeling figure. Her downcast gaze and pious gestures suggest that Leonardo's initial idea was to depict the Virgin in Adoration of the Christ Child. There is no sign of the baby Jesus, but this could be because Leonardo abandoned this idea before he came to include him.

A technique known as infrared reflectography was used to look through the layers of paint and reveal the hidden drawings

Art is in the mistakes?

This does not really apply to literature as much as, say, visual art, or even music. Or does it>? Maybe I’ll get to that.

Anyway, talking about vinyl records today in class made me think of this, and I think it is true of concerts even more. And isn’t this one of the reasons that painting is more artistic than, say, taking a photograph? The mistakes are a vital part of the process…it is what humanizes things, for me. I think we are always looking for mistakes in films, like we mentioned in class, because we want to see evidence that there is a human behind all of the equipment, after all. When someone’s voice cracks in concert…or forgets the words! That is what you remember…that kernel of humanity…I went to a Lyle Lovett show once (I am a big fan, I have to say, though I know I am in a small minority J) and was a little disappointed that there weren’t any little mistakes, or little personal touches that made his performance different from the recording. With painting, it is more difficult to pinpoint, but I think that the fact that each brushstroke could have gone a different way…that no painting is an exact representation of events (though I suppose the same could be said of a photograph, but not in the same way, I am going to have to insist) but the artist’s perception, and translation of them. And again, surely when a painting is complete, there are things that the artist wishes were different, little details that came out wrong, but make the whole work more special as a result…maybe even better than it would have been, in retrospect.
Back to music, I was just posting something about this on James’ blog, but I am going to repeat it here anyway. When I was a music major, many years ago, my college choir made a CD. It may sound fun and exciting, but really it was anything but. The process was so painstakingly perfectionist, this unreal effort to make a perfectly clear, seamless, flawless digital recording. My conductor was manic about it, we must have made 40 recordings of one song, because the piano sounds like it was in a tunnel, or Mark cleared his throat inbetween the chant and the Kyrie, or the hum of the lights was interfering with the pitch of the second sopranos (come on, give us a break, lady!). She would play us these “perfect” recordings by the Tallis scholars, or the Kings College Choir, and, sure, they are beautiful, but in an untouchable, unrealistically perfect way. Why is it desirable to hear a recording where the singers are so perfect, they sound almost like instruments or machines, not human voices? Hmmm. Does it say something about the innately flawed nature of humanity? That we need things to have flaws, to reassure us that our imperfections are OK? interesting. So, anyway, we finally finished the CD, we sang in the dark, with a new piano, and no one dared move or sing a note slightly off…if someone was sick, they weren’t allowed to sing, or even come near the rest of us if they might be contagious… in the end, I guess it sounded good, but to me, inauthentic. I prefer singing with the group in concert, feeling the pressure and the nervous zing of energy from singing in front of an audience, feeling like part of a living group of voices joining together. The mistakes we inevitably made, made it more vital and genuine. Even the audience gets into the act of making a performance unique. If people coughed, or clapped at the wrong time, or a child sings along to a familiar christmas carol, it makes the performance different every time, unique. It is remembered for the way a new soloist faltered at the beginning, and the final high notes ring truer and clearer because of it. We are able to enjoy the beauty of her performance because of the flaw at the beginning, almost as if we can forgive that perfection, or forgive may be the wrong word, but certainly enjoy it more, because the pressure of perfection has been removed. Hmmm. I think that vinyl works with this idea, because it is a flawed method of reproduction, and therefore more loveable because of it. I still have all of my records from childhood (albeit nothing on which to play them) because they are irreplaceable, and the cover art is part of it, but not all. The sound is special, unique, and constantly evolving, as they get older and are played. The performance is fleeting, fragile, the next time I play it will be different. OK, I have rambled enough here, but I am going to give this more thought…imperfection…hmmm…How would this translate to literature, though?

OK, time to catch up

Oops, I forgot to blog last week. Hmmm. I liked the James article, I found it a little incongruous with the works I have read of his, though. Hmmm. I think what we said in class, though, about his Novels being quite different from the shorter works, is true, though. I guess this article seemed a little...romantic, almost, in its idealisation of reading. Which I relate to, personally, it is just surprising from James. "A novel is in its broadest definition a personal, a direct impression of life" Hmmm. Very interesting, though. I may have to go back and read more Henry James, to articulate this further. Anyway.
I found the Corneille article amusing, and not a little extreme in the strictness of the rules. I am not sure I agree with him, even in the opening, where he asserts that "in comedy, unity of action consists in the unity of plot or the obstacle to the plans of the principal actors, and in tragedy in the unity of peril, whether the hero falls victim to it or escapes." I can see the point about comedy, I remember after it was pointed out to me that there is almost always a blocking agent or, more likely, character that was central to the plot, I was shocked to discover that it was really true. But "peril" as the unifying agent to drama just dosen't work for me. I like the definitions of comedy and drama that focus on comedy as the story of a community, and the blocking character playing out objection to something that goes against social mores or convention, but resolved in the end, and the community goes on to thrive, all is well. That goes along with Corneille's assertions. But in this definition, Drama is the story of the individual, and the development of the character and internal growth. Peril may of may not have anything to do with this, but I really don't see it at the level of importance Corneille seems to give it. Hmm. Often the character Drama focuses on does face some sort of struggle or life changing event, though...
OK, that's all I can come up with right now...I really need to do this right before or after class from now on...

Jen