Yancy's blog

Before this semester, I never have thought I could learn so many different kinds of plays. Simple play, critical play and deep play, every play has its special meaning and make the word ‘play’ complicated in my mind. In the final essay, I want to come back and re-write one of my works about critical play.

Critical play is the first strange definition of play that I attached. Artists use this kind of play to express their special ideas to the public. This definition seems to be abstract but the real trip to Philly helps me a lot to understand it. When I enter into Chinatown, I suddenly know, the total place is a critical play. For me, it remind me of something familiar when I stay in China. The words, the people, the language and the names of food make me excited. However, I find the language, although is a kind of accents in China, I cannot understand. The food is not orthodox, and buildings keep the style of that in 80s in China. They are different from my real life in my hometown. The Chinatown is a critical play that is played by people in Chinatown. They want to create a familiar environment but failed because many of them even never come to China. They follow the rhythm of their predecessors. Their impressions for China, sometimes is the China in old stories. The Chinatown is the critical play for me and it is different from the real China in my mind.

In Sontag’s article ‘Against interpretation’, she propose her idea that the interpretation today is useless and not valuable. When I read her title, in the beginning, I disagreed because I thought interpretation was necessary for me to understand the meaning of art works. However, when I read the article, I notice that maybe I’m wrong. In her definition and explanation for modern interpretation, that is, people set some criterions and ‘put’ art works in them to interpret the art works. This kind of interpretation is so terrible for me. Thousands of artists use special ways to express different ideas. If I really want to understand their original idea, I should discard such criterions and feel the work individually.

I seldom came to somewhere to see pictures by foreign painters because I believed if I could not know those painters’ background, I would not understand the deep meaning of their works. So, I just treated those works respectfully in my heart and refused to see them. However, my experience today changes in some degree my mind. And I think although the background is un-known for me, it won’t influence my enjoyment.

There are thousands of art works in front of me. Some are made by very famous painters such as Van Gogh or Monet, and others are made by unfamiliar names. I walk from one room to another, those works on the wall look at me silently, and I try to choose one work that shocks me or causes my interest. When I enter in a new room, I decide to sit for a break. Then, when I notice the picture on the wall, I know, the one I need is here.

I am confused after reading the articles that explain the original function of this museum. When I see a picture, I prefer to read the stories after it. I’m interested in who is the character in the picture, why painters choose the character and the meaning of the picture. Actually I am not used to enjoying a picture by noticing its lines, colors or structures. However, Barnes hopes visitors can enjoy the picture without those backgrounds. Although I do not have the background information, I still try to find such information by staying with the picture for a long time. The museum changes its position. Luckily, they did not change the arrangement of artworks here. I don’t think it is a large problem to change the museum’s position. Compared to this problem, the existence of audio tour works more against the original idea of Barnes. It makes Barnes Foundation a real commercial museum instead of an educational place. I will re-write my paper and focus more on the picture itself but not the story of it.

I seldom came to somewhere to see pictures by foreign painters because I believed if I could not know those painters’ background, I would not understand the deep meaning of their works. So, I just treated those works respectfully in my heart and refused to see them. However, my experience today changes in some degree my mind. And I think although the background is un-known for me, it won’t influence my enjoyment.

There are thousands of art works in front of me. Some are made by very famous painters such as Van Gogh or Monet, and others are made by unfamiliar names. I walk from one room to another, those works on the wall look at me silently, and I try to choose one work that shocks me or causes my interest. Some works are very beautiful because of their harmonious colors that are used to depict natural views. However, I cannot find the story that the painter wants to tell in such works. For me, it is important to tell the story in the work and in such works, the painter seems to just record the beautiful view in their eyes. Time is passing and I feel tired. When I enter in a new room, I decide to sit for a break. Then, when I notice the picture on the wall, I know, the one I need is here.

The 17 border crossings impressed me by its light and voice. When the man ‘stand’ in the train, the light on the ground is so realistic that I even could feel the time pass and the train is running. His languages, the Spanish, French and English show the borders between people. For me, this show is more like a critical play than a deep play. The critical players want to express their ideas about the society to others. But deep play, I think is more personal. I am not the player on the stage so I am not sure if he is in the deep play feeling when he plays. Although the play seems hard for me but maybe it is not very hard for him. There is a border between us, of course, I could not feel his feeling at that moment.

I stay in the library on Friday night, with my computer. Silence is everywhere, and there is no one else in my eyes. Friday night, the wonderful night, because others take part in parties or play in their room, the library seems so spacious for me. I sip some hot milk and stare at my screen, there are massive codes here. Where is the position of the black ball? How can I move it? Can I try another structure to draw my picture? Why the light cannot turn on for some seconds? Which color is suitable? Is it beautiful my fish? At this moment, I know my spirit is concentrated in those codes. The spirit is so warm and strong to support me to continue my assignment alone in such a night. I do not care how much time I will spend in this work, and how difficult the work is. Time is passing, the milk is cooler. I just sit here silently, tapping on the keyboard. Sometimes people around me whisper to each other, chuckle to their computers or stand up to buy some coffee. The environment is not absolutely silent. But I do not care. I cannot hear anything when I am writing my codes and cannot move my eyesight away from the screen.

Samuel Brewster stayed in his cell, with cold walls and endless silence. On the ground, lied some cloths and other component parts of pairs of shoes, but he did not want to make the shoes. He just sat to the wall. Twenty minutes, or more time passed. He did not know. Suddenly, he stood up and rushed at the door, with hands knocking heavily at the iron door: “I! I will not make another pair!”(Buried Lives, 106) He angrily repeating his words again and again, but no one answered. He knew, maybe he would be brought to the dark room, but he did not care. No one talked to him. Isolation, this was the most terrible thing he met here. In such an isolated cell, so silent that seemed there was only one man, that was him, in the world. Meals arrived on time, but they could not change anything except told him another day came. He did not know how many days passed or how many days left, actually he just wanted to listen or talk or other ways of communicating. He had something else such as making shoes or reading to do, but he did not want to follow the rules made for prisoners, for shoes a month, it seemed enough for him. He was not interested in the words in the reading material because they could not change the situation here, could not bring more voices here. He was bored with the repeating days the endless silence and the useless books or shoes, trying to break the situation by ‘denying work, damaging work supplies, destroying cell furniture, rebuffing and manipulating religious counselors , and attacking overseers’. (Buried Lives, 107)

A place of aesthetic beauty from outside. Everyone has some good in them and given the opportunity to reflect on their wrong doings in the penitentiary they could rediscover the good. No cruel punishment so as not to make them feel hated or unaccepted by the society, so that they could return to the society and be decent citizens. 

Is it practical?

A place of silence and regret from inside. Eastern State Penitentiary now looks the way it made the prisoners feel: empty, broken, and alone. For prisoners inside, it’s not much different: no freedom, isolated, frustrating, desperate and somehow made the lonely people more aggressive. The isolation is the punishment actually in this place. I cannot imagine if I stay in such place day by day without talking. It seems prisoners became more like objects to be placed somewhere than people who needed reforming.

In the essay I wrote with Amy last week, our lens is the relationship, especially the relationship between women. Amy asked me, “Is there true friendship between women?” and my immediate answer is, yes. The two girls grow up together, experiencing many things. The final result of their relationship is caused not because of the frangibility of the friendship but the change of their class. Then, in the second draft of our paper, I think the lens is ‘change’. Change in class, change in social states, change in economic condition, change in minds.