Lemons to Art

I hate cliches, but I can't help but think of the old adage "if life hands you lemons, make lemonade" when I see the art and hear the story of Sue Williams. Her life was filled with so much pain - she suffered things on first dates that people don't usually face in war time. Her body was used and abused, and through this horror she has created such works of beauty. Not through, even. That's not the right word. Not "in spite of" either. It is truly as if the pain itself was a tool (or, dare i say, inspiration) for her incredible paintings.

Not that her story matters. I mean, of course it matters - but her giant calligraphic pieces are incredibly beautiful just as visual art. Her use of line and color are astounding. She really does represent a new abstraction, and it is so appealing. An interesting question might lie here: Would she be able to (or even want to) create this incredible art without the pain she had suffered?

I have a friend (who will here remain nameless) who suffered traumatic illness and surgery at a young age. Left with no colon and other, more grievous physical and emotional injuries - she has created some of the most interesting and radical art that I have had the luck to see first-hand. For her, the illness itself is definitely inspiration - she actually used to talk about being thankful that she was sick, because it gave her an artistic purpose. I can't help but wonder, though, if she would have even turned to art if she had never been so close to death. Also - in a bizarre twist - she is having trouble finding inspiration lately, mostly because she now knows that she will not die soon. She explained to a good friend of mine that she never expected to live this long, so she has no real idea of what to do.

We all know the cliched idea that without pain, there can be no pleasure in life, and that we all must take the good with the bad and the hideous. So much art, whether visual, auditory, textual, is borne from pain. One rarely reads a poem or hears a popular song that isn't about pain of some type. To create art, I assume one has to have something to say. Without a message (about life, technique, SOMETHING) art is kind of relegated to craft. I always been somewhat disappointed that I never excelled at visual art as a kid, and it wasn't something that I had a passion or real talent for. I wonder if my pain wasn't enough for art - or maybe my way of expressing that pain is just different from those who can paint it. It would be a tough choice to make - would I be willing to take a bullet to the lung to create the kind of abstract beauty of a Sue WIlliams? Or would I suffer through life with no colon to feel truly artistic?

Free Falling

I happen to think that the Falling Man is a beautiful representation of an ugly event. I don't see any inherent horror in finding beauty in something negative. I say, thank goodness for artists out there who are able to create something of aesthetic worth during a time as trying to the American people as 9/11 was. I definitely think there is a fine line with photography, though. On one hand, I absolutely see the necessity of having dedicated press photojournalists documenting important events, whether they be positive or overly negative. We often get mad at photographers, though. Many of us hate having our pictures taken, even when we look fabulous. I can't really imagine the disgust I might feel if one of these intrepid journalists took a picture of one of the members of my family - their body crushed and burnt, or falling through the air.

Those journalists on he day of 9/11 were doing their jobs, but we all know that alone is not really an excuse for everything. For example, should you really be worrying about lighting and composition when someone might be literally dying for your help? I cannot say what I would have done if I was in NYC on 9/11 - I would have probably beat feet to get the hell out of there as quickly as I could. The man who photographed "Falling Man" was brave enough to actually get CLOSER to the buildings - I have a nagging feeling like he should have done something other than documentation.

Eventually, however, I really think he deserves accolades and not derision for what he had done - as does the photographer behind that iconic photo of the napalm covered girl running, or even (in a lesser and almost vile way) those German soldiers who documented what occurred in their Nazi death camps. Without the imagery of war flickering on their TV screens, the American people might never have questioned the reasoning behind our sending young men to die in Vietnam. Unfortunately, I think that these days people are so desensitized to images of violence that many are not even appropriately horrified by the pictures and video from Abu Graib to question our military involvement in Iraq/Pakistan/Afghanistan.

Oh - and I loved that classical renaissance-feeling painting we looked at as a representation of 9/11. I admit that I would maybe feel differently if it was hanging in Taliban headquarters or something. However - no matter what its origin - I think that art is so important to human culture that it would be a damned shame to see censorship repress artists. Especially in a country that prides itself so much on individuality and self-expression.

Performance of Pain in Harold and Maude

I can vividly remember seeing the opening scene of Harold and Maude when I was young. There is the incredible build up with shots of Harold's feet - I know my patience with entertainment has suffered since I'd first seen this film, because I was getting antsy. I wanted the money shot. Because I knew what was coming, I relied on others' reactions for the surprise and alarm. Rich provided a fantastic gasp and a "What the hell?" More striking than the image of Harold hanging, though, is his mother's decidedly lukewarm reaction. Harold's elaborately wrought suicide "attempts" are obviously a performance of pain - although the pain he is expressing is emotional and psychological. Perhaps one of the most telling moments occurs when his mother is reading him the questions aloud for the computer dating service. As she becomes less and less interested in what Harold has to say (although I must say I don't think he speaks to his mother until the very end of the movie) he takes the pistol he has meticulously loaded, and points it at her. This is unexpected, but completely understandable.

Which leads me to: what a ridiculous character is the mother? I mean - every character in this film is a caricature, but she is so overbearingly unlikeable. Is she realistic? Is it important that she be? I guess that's part of what makes the film appropriate as a comedy. Without the laughs we get from the likes of the uncle and the priest, the tragedy of love and death could overwhelm the film. As it is, the film deals with the topic of death in such a way as to bring the viewer closer to the idea of their mortality, but in a comforting way. Harold's last "suicide" leaves that part of him in his past - as he is ready to embrace not just life, but his own mortality.

the big V

I was lucky enough to get to see the Vagina Monologues this year - I caught the Sunday matinee with my boyfriend, sister, and her friend. There are so many ways in which I could connect vaginas and pain (specifically, the idea of birth makes me dizzy and need to sit down) but I think what struck me the most this year during the Monologues was the issue of female circumcision. In my mind, the idea that this happened to even one woman is horrifying, but the fact that it happens regularly to women in dozens of countries is just incomprehensible. In some places, only the clitoris is removed. In others, every outside part of the vagina is removed - clitoris, inner and outer labia. This truly renders a woman "a hole." Some of the excuses given for FC include the "fact" that women are inherently uncontrollable sexual beasts, and if they had their clitorises, society would fall apart. What kind of weird, archaic nonsense is that? The truth is that these surgeries are usually incredibly dangerous, and many times a woman is left with chronic pain. Other times, a fistula is formed, and a woman cannot control her bladder releasing. To me, this is not only a women's issue, but one of simple human rights. This kind of practice should be unequivocally stopped, in my opinion - to hell with tradition or religion.

On that note: I also hate the idea of male circumcision. I think that taking any body-part off of a person without their express permission is wrong on so many levels. Now - if we're talking about a tail or webbed feet - ok. Get rid of that shit. No kid needs to be tortured by classmates for their harelip or eleventh toe. Really, though - what use is it to get rid of the skin at the end of a penis? I have had this conversation before with many people that I see as being intelligent and humane, and most would agree completely about eradicating FC, but see no problem with young boys having their penises surgically altered before they have the right to assert themselves one way or the other. Circumcision is possible on older boys (I know of one young man who had it done at 14) so why mutilate a child? I use the word mutilate, realizing that it will probably provoke debate. Bring it. Also, I must admit that I have experience only with circumcised men, but that is surely because I am an American. Almost everyone here is chopped! Not so in Europe or Asia, and certainly not in South America. I cannot accept cleanliness as a reason for slicing the foreskin of a baby boy, because if your foreskin is keeping your penis dirty, chances are you're just dirty in general. Foreskin can be pulled back, and an uncircumcised penis can surely be effectively cleaned. So why, then, other than tradition, do we let this happen (and do it to our own children)?

As an end-note, I'd like to point out that I do not see male and female circumcision as the same thing. MC is to FC like ripping of a hang-nail is to amputating a hand. But although I see a difference in degree, I think there is an obvious similarity in kind.

Dr. Nick Ealy and Celestina

I realize that it's taken me forever to get to this. My apologies! The truth is, I absolutely loved this discussion. In fact - it's class sessions like this that make me want to hang out in academia forever!

It was certainly useful for Dr. Ealy to point out the stereotypes of the Dark Ages before he started in on Celestina. The idea that these "Dark Ages" were dark due to ignorance and superstition is fallacious. Instead, he pointed out, we can find plenty of enlightened philosophy, if we care to look further than stories of limbs rent, etc.

"The Romance" story was a new ethos, according to Ealy, and the best kind of fantastical glory now came from love, rather than war and the battlefield. In Celestina, we see an example of this unfulfilled erotic love become a kind of exquisite pain for the two main characters. "Love batters me, though no wound is visible." This unfulfilled love has transformative properties - becoming enobling and transcendental. We see this kind of love in so many love stories - where the lovers elevate each other to impossible heights, and there is inevitably a fall. Celestina does not disappoint - the heroine literally "falls" from her window, torn apart as she is from her requited yet impossible love - and of course Celestina herself is killed as a direct consequence of her meddling.

The problem in many love stories is that there is an obvious gap between fantasy and reality. When her lover comes to her, they both become confused when the physical expression of their "love" is less satisfying than the pain they felt apart. If looked at from a modern perspective (which, I guess, I cannot help but do) this story becomes more tragic than ever. I mean, truly - who ever had a satisfying, let alone transcendental time losing their virginity? OF COURSE it was disappointing. For these two, that was just the first step leading to their literary doom. Ealy said that her life was based on empty dreams, and I think that was probably true of many medieval people. Hell - it's true now! I know countless people who think that if they only had that jacket, those shoes, that house, that boy - they would be truly happy. It never works out that way. We love to want things! Ealy calls this "a fundamental unavoidable lack." This renders us human, and can be a positive force until we fallibly think that an object of our obsession is the "one true answer."

Ealy also posits that love cannot be "the answer" because there isn't an answer. "Life is a search; enjoy the journey."

What Constitutes a Rape Act?

During Nels' excellent lecture, even as I was paying rapt attention, my mind kept wandering back to the idea of a definition of "rape" or a "rape act."  There are non-sexual definitions of rape (i.e. plunder), but I am not interested in those.  I think I might like my own definition of rape, to then petition all 50 states to adopt my over-arching denotation.  In trying to find what I consider to be rape, I looked up plenty of others' efforts.

"the unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse"  and "any act of sexual intercourse that is forced on a person" were the top two definitions on Dictionary.com.  The first obviously is gender-specific, and therefore nonsense, in my opinion.  The second is still not right - sexual intercourse cannot be the only act included in the idea of rape.

MedicineNet.com has an extremely long definition (being medically inclined, I suppose).  They include the possibility of any gender being a rapist and/or the victim, and also include the anus in their category of "rape-able" orifices.  They discuss the important distinctions between regular "rape" and statutory rape - and also give date-rape a loose definition.

I think that the best place to start my definition of rape would be at the word's origin.  Rape is derived from the Latin word "rapere" - which means "to seize."  I think this is totally applicable, and would say that perhaps rape should be defined as any sexual act that is forced - any person who "seizes" anyone else's body part (vagina, anus, mouth) for their own sexual enjoyment (or general perversion) should be considered a rapist.  Those boys who ejaculated all over a sleeping girl's face?  Rapists for sure, in my book.  

I am really interested in what other people think about this definition in progress.  Please leave a comment if you have a suggestion - and I may work more on my definition as the semester goes on...

Say it Harder, so They can Feel it

I just so happen to have read all four of these pieces before.  The Sedaris piece (like all of his work) I've read over and over again, and the other three essays were assigned in the class that I am preceptoring with Dr. Nels.   I think these four are excellent examples of personal essays/memoirs.  Each one deals with pain on some level, but each uses a distinctly different tone to do so, and to connect with their intended audience.  Also - I've come to realize how very important a strong beginning is to a successful memoir.

Sedaris' essay deals with his mother's death - a tragedy which seems almost incomprehensible to me.  I think it might be easy to lose my attention with overt melancholy, but instead of being morose Sedaris skillfully uses humor to disarm some of the horror of the story.  His opening is particularly appealing to me, dealing with both latent homosexuality and recreational drug use. I think another clever thing Sedaris does to draw a reader in and keep the story interesting, is to use his sister's marriage (a typically happy and life-affirming affair) as a counterpoint to his mother's looming lung cancer.

Beth Richards' essay was not necessarily about death, but the slow failure of her grandmother's mind toward the end of her life.  Richards' strength, I think, lies in her amazing gift for description.  Her first paragraph is some of the best description I've ever read.  The character of her great-grandmother becomes so clear in so few sentences.  Richards chooses her words so carefully - I could tell that even if I didn't know her habit of revising a piece over and over again.  I am immediately drawn into her story, because I want to keep listening to her voice.

You certainly can't argue with Strayed's first line.  "The first time I cheated on my husband, my mother had been dead for exactly one week."  Wow.  Obviously an attention getter.  Also - it sets the tone for a very raunchy story.  It can almost act as its own warning.  Do not read on if you don't want to encounter something kind of nasty.  I don't know if I could ever be this nakedly honest in a memoir of my own - especially about something sexual.  I might be willing to kiss and tell - but not betray.  Her tone is effective, but not something I could necessarily use myself.

Beard's story I found to be an engaging story, but definitely the least effective of the four, for me.  Specifically, her first paragraph is kind of sappy, and it doesn't really set the stage properly for the rest of the story.  In fact - the whole first couple of pages seems slow to me.

For all of this memoir reading, I still have little to no idea of what I want to write about for the final essay.