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Once Upon a Time is Now Forum |
Please feel free to contribute to/join/rejoin the conversation at any time. It is a place to share thoughts and ideas both about the exhibits themselves and about things that come to mind from hearing what comes to other peoples' minds.
Comments are posted in the order in which they are received, with earlier postings appearing first below on this page. To see the latest postings, click on "Go to last comment" below.
The Guest Book Name: Lucy Kerma Date: 2004-10-22 10:44:03 Link to this Comment: 11170 |
installation Name: Anna Goldf Date: 2004-10-23 11:13:15 Link to this Comment: 11176 |
To be honest, Name: Kathryn Ti Date: 2004-10-23 13:17:07 Link to this Comment: 11180 |
"It does open wounds" Name: Anne Dalke Date: 2004-10-23 17:15:32 Link to this Comment: 11183 |
"It is the photographs that give one the vivid realization of what actually took place. Words don't do it." (Donald Rumsfeld admitting that he knew about the abuses --and the photographs documenting the abuses--at Abu Ghraib)
I live (sort of) in English House, and over the summer, while I was upstairs in my second-floor office, writing (among other things) the various explorations and expansions which arose for me in response to Writing Descartes, Elizabeth was in the basement, assembling, dis-assembling and re-assembling the exhibit that premiered yesterday evening as Once Upon a Time is Now. I went down to visit the site a couple of times while it was in progress--one time Elizabeth was there, one time she was not; one time the room was locked, one time it was not (hm: which time is "now"?).
I told Elizabeth then what a strong comparative sense I had of myself upstairs, doing the work of the conscious mind (aka "thinking too much"), while she labored below giving expression to the unconscious. I had such a vivid experience of descending from my light-filled office into the darkness and dankness of that cellar space, with its exposed pipes and peeling walls--they are for me the very powerful and troubing location for the exhibit, and strongly condition my reception of it. The exhibit itself is for me one of fragments and holes and tears and tearings--hard to shape into a whole, hard to get hold of (and of course, each time I walk through it, each time I stand in a different place, it shape-shifts--especially the way those mirrors mirror different aspects of the room, of the self looking into them....)
Today--in response to the invitation to represent my own relationship to the exhibit--I realized that another strong element in my reaction to Elizabeth's work centers around my awareness of the difference between the medium I use upstairs and the one that Elizabeth's been working on below, the difference between words and images. To rise up from the chair, where I was sitting in front of the word-filled screen, to then move around in a basement filled with material objects, was for me strongly reminiscent of an earlier gallery tour: the on-line Conversation in Images. I found myself now, as then, wanting to turn my experience of those images into words, to "read" (and so control?) them.
That earlier exhibit had been a troubling one for me to view, filled (as it seemed to me) w/ images of wounding, of injury, of hurt. Reading, today, the October 2004 PMLA issue (which highlights the intersections of visual and verbal), I came across the words of Samuel Beckett who (according to one critic) "understood the longing for less insight more clearly than did any other twentieth-century artist." That was my desire, looking at that exhibit: to see less, to see less wounding, to be less wounded. It was like how Beckett described seeing--"a sudden visual grasp, a sudden shot of the eye. Just that." To see those images seemed to mean to take them into the body, and be hurt by them....
Another PMLA critic quipped that "The image may teach nothing, but it does open wounds." I do think these images teach something; they continue to teach me quite a bit (in large part, about my discomfort w/ parts, my preference for wholes!). The fragmentation is hard to see. It feels very much like a descent into the unconscious, into the work of the surreal, of the shredded and torn--and I have a very strong impulse, as I walk again among the various parts of the exhibit, to link them together, to make a story out of them that has clear beginning, middle and end...
and then to walk out of that basement, into the sunlight of the lawn.
image for the unconscious Name: Sharon Burgmayer Date: 2004-10-24 23:47:27 Link to this Comment: 11205 |
continuing ... Name: Paul Grobstein Date: 2004-10-25 11:50:01 Link to this Comment: 11208 |
Lucy's question arose in a different context where Anne's thoughts were also posted. Here's some relevant bits of what I said there:
What makes it interesting is that, having written the words, I did pause and wonder whether they were significant (and even thought briefly about changing them) because I had a sense that as a man (of my particular sex/gender variant) there could indeed be things about Elizabeth's installation that I wasn't well "tuned" to and that others (of sexes/genders different from my own) might be responsive to than me.
For whatever its worth, I don't see "shredded and torn" in "Once Upon a Time" ... What I saw/responded to was "spaceness". "Where "spaceness" means, to me, the freedom to move this way and that, to change perspectives, as one's attention is drawn to one interesting thing or another."
Is my sex/gender particularly significant in what I (in particular) saw, and/or in what I didn't see? That, it seems to me, is an empirical question ... and maybe some useful empirical observations will emerge [from discussion of Elizabeth's installation]
RE: Spaceness Name: Arlene Date: 2004-10-25 20:18:47 Link to this Comment: 11222 |
more thoughts Name: Arlene Date: 2004-10-25 20:25:16 Link to this Comment: 11223 |
all the contrasts Name: Leah Blank Date: 2004-10-26 20:07:52 Link to this Comment: 11228 |
very neat Name: Maeve O'Ha Date: 2004-10-27 23:58:52 Link to this Comment: 11240 |
Name: Nissa Date: 2004-10-28 18:19:44 Link to this Comment: 11258 |
writing and femaleness Name: Natsu Date: 2004-10-28 19:00:05 Link to this Comment: 11261 |
Depth Name: Katie Bald Date: 2004-10-28 20:27:56 Link to this Comment: 11262 |
mirrors Name: Sanda Win Date: 2004-10-28 22:08:09 Link to this Comment: 11264 |
to write the world is to make the world Name: Anne Dalke Date: 2004-10-29 21:33:48 Link to this Comment: 11268 |
It's been exactly a week now since Elizabeth's opening , a week for mulling over, a week of walking by that open door (en route to classes I teach in an adjacent room), peeking in, re-visiting, re-newing initial impressions of the "shredded and torn"...and a week in which (in preparation for a talk on Language I'll be giving @ Swarthmore) I've been (re) reading some of the work of Jacques Lacan , whose ideas about fragmentation and mirroring have helped me understand better some of my own reactions to Elizabeth's installation. I record those understandings here, in case/the hope that others might also find them useful (and do so with many thanks to Mary Klages, from whose good lecture notes I drew this summary):
Lacan described three phases of development: the Real, the Imaginary and the Symbolic. In the first stage, of the Real, the baby is just a blob driven by NEEDS, which can be satisfied; this is the psychic place of fullness and completeness. In the second stage, as the infant begins to form her own identity, she becomes aware of her separation from her mother, and develops DEMANDS for her recognition. This is when the mirror stage occurs: the baby experiences its body as fragmented, or in pieces--whatever part it sees is there just when it is seen, and disappears otherwise. But at some point, seeing itself in a mirror, the baby has the illusion that it is a whole person. Lacan calls this a misrecognition, a fantasy; which is why he terms this phase, of demand and mirroring, the realm of the Imaginary. (It's of considerable interest to me to realize, at this juncture, that my own first foray into Writing Descartes, We Are, and We CanTalk, Therefore... speaks about the need to see myself mirrored back by others, and the sense that without such mirroring I am not coherent.)
Anyhow: the experience of the Imaginary prepares the child to take up a position in the third stage, that of the Symbolic, in which she learns to use language to cross the gulf between the self and what she lacks, what she desires. For Lacan what is @ this point desired-- to be the center of the system (of language, of culture)--is definitionally not fulfillable.
So here's the Lacanian take on "Once Upon a Time is Now": while upstairs, at the computer, I'm immersed in the Symbolic, trying to use words to cross the (impossible-to-cross) gap between the real and the imaginary, down in the basement of English House is a representation of the mirror stage, a figuring, via the shards of mirrors, of our fragmented selves back to ourselves (as per Sanda's "the mirrors ...gave this sense of having different parts within you, different sides of you).
I don't think Lacan got the "whole picture," though. One piece of the picture he didn't get was the ways in which, in conversation with one another, we might go beyond this separation of Self and Other, not simply mirroring one another back to ourselves, but actually, in conversation (as at the opening?) making new things together:
Another thing he didn't get--and this is the conclusion to a (possible) long-winded revision of Elizabeth's suggestion, above, that "to read the word is to read the world": to write the world is to make the world. There's more about this just now finding expression in the Working Group on Emergence, where the notion that consciousness brings the unconscious into existence begins to be articulated, as I think it may also be in Jeffrey Eugenides' novel Middlesex: "It's a different thing to be inside a body than outside. From outside, you can look, inspect, compare. From inside there is no comparison" (387).
installation Name: Elizabeth Date: 2004-10-31 12:46:20 Link to this Comment: 11279 |
the actual vs the virtual Name: Ann Dixon Date: 2004-11-11 11:52:20 Link to this Comment: 11513 |
revisiting this space Name: Anne Dalke Date: 2004-12-08 18:06:50 Link to this Comment: 11912 |
Steve Levine gave one of the talks in the Visual Cultures Colloquium this afternoon that put me in mind (again) of Elizabeth's installation, and gave a context for understanding the sort of revision of/intervention into art history that I think it offered. I want to try and describe that here.
Steve's talk was called "Maquillage"(which means both "make-up" and "fakery," and which--following Baudillaire--he presented as an icon of modernity). The talk focused largely on the interplay between images of women making themselves up (in front of mirrors) and making their own self-portraits--set in the long art-historical and cultural traditions in which "women's burden was to be the object of the gaze," and men were equally "fixed" as the ones "for whom the gaze is fashioned."
I didn't realize what a useful history/context this offered for understanding Elizabeth's installation until, showing us a figure of a male artist painting his own self-portrait while looking angrily in a mirror, Steve said, "the mirror is associated with the mother--who holds the baby up to it and says, 'you are so beautiful, you are so beautiful.' The male artist, no longer comparable to the love image of the maternal lost object, unable to envision/arrange himself aesthetically, looks at the mirror in rage." It was this juxtaposition of "mirror" and "man" that made me think, again, of Elizabeth's work.
I remembered Maria's asking Paul why he described his own representation of the installation as "as seen by a particular man at a particular time." Why not "as seen by a particular individual/human/person"? What I want to suggest now is that both the exhibit itself and its web version actually function pretty neatly as an intervention into this gendered history of art. In Elizabeth's installation, the male gaze was not "fixed" on the object that is woman; and the woman was not "fixed" in front of her mirror. The exhibit rather contained multiple mirrors in which the viewers could see themselves from various perspectives. The images in the mirrors were constantly changing; and--because we could all move through the exhibit--our perspectives on it were also constantly changing (I'm thinking here of cubism; of the simultaneous representation of multiple points of view).
And I'm thinking that that gives us yet another interesting revision of Descartes: Not "I can think, therefore I am." Not "I can see [another], therefore I am." Not "I am seen [by another], therefore I am." Not even "I can see myself, therefore I am," but rather, in what Paul calls the "spaceness" of this exhibit, "spaceness" means...the freedom to move this way and that, to change perspectives. Not to be fixed--either by gazing or being gazed upon--but able always to move.