Moldering in the Grave

I had a new thought about the problem of the perennial white savior character in movies that aim to deal with issues of racial conflict.  It's a problematic handling of a still important issue, undoubtedly.  (Ah, "problematic", that overused term of the progressively-minded blog!)  And yet it seems nearly as questionable to do away with such stories completely.

I have often considered whether there is something to be gained when a large population of people, who make up the obliviously privileged, are presented and confronted with stories of bedrock-changing experiences endured by characters with whom they identify.  In other words, I do think an ordinary, white, American movie-going person, who hasn't ever given much thought to the actual lived experiences of someone in a vastly (or slightly) different set of circumstances (or skin), can gain some self-awareness by watching a story unfold on the screen in which another supposedly ordinary person ("just like me!") learns to identify with, and even help, people less privileged.  I mean this with no cynicism nor snarkiness.  There is a value to this story.  But there is also the much-expounded-upon problem of that character being seen as a savior whose inherent talent and goodness (which seems to stem from his - it's usually his - whiteness) must be employed to save the apparently inferior others.  And really, much of the problem is that this version of the story is all too common, and just seen as more profitable (which is probably true) than a story in which a hero rises from within the oppressed group to save its own people.  Or ANY other variation.

So, anyway, my new thought to add to my musings is this: could a work of drama make an audience member feel the righteousness of acting on principle for the good of others, not through the glorification of the would-be hero, but because all reasoning, guided by human decency, points to this inevitable choice of action, and could they be moved to such righteousness?  Because the story makes it clear that it is simply the Right Thing To Do?  Is it possible to inspire people without them worshiping the hero?  Could the fact that someone is working on others' behalf without any personal gain to be had give the story line more merit?

I was reading about John Brown which got me thinking about all of this again, and now I have an idea for a project.

Reaching Out

My thoughts are something of a jumble tonight.  I'm feeling inspired, and yet lazy.  I'm following many shadowed paths, overgrown trails, and crooked lanes that end abruptly.  Looking at where I reside, not only the address, the apartment, but the moment and cosmic space upon which I have alighted, I know I've been feeling rather isolated, in my life, and in my home, down in the OC, Santa Ana, Orange County.  I have very few actual friends there.  (Tonight I must call it "there" because for the moment I'm on an extended holiday in my childhood home in the sweet Berkshires, in western Massachusetts.  Without snow.)  While I love solitude, I need connections and collaboration for my art.  So, I have been making a stronger effort to reach out to people, with a goal of nurturing relationships that seem potentially beneficial.  (And, of course, some have already!)  I want to talk about ideas.  Talking helps me quite a bit.  It helps me create; it helps me identify whether an idea is worth developing into a living project.  As language shapes the brain, articulating my artistic ideas solidifies the concepts for me.  Writing, as well, is a propitious exercise for me, as through the process, I must push myself to follow mental paths farther than is initially comfortable.  I'm training myself to develop ideas even while alone.  So, working on my art independently is ok.  AND I also sometimes want company in my work.

Bookworm

About a year ago, I decided to make the switch to an e-reader. I was one of those people who argued on behalf of a Book, that tangible, comforting, dusty-aroma-ed volume you could thumb through in search of a half-remembered line that gave you pause on first read. And then I had a baby. My decision to breastfeed provided me with an unexpected benefit of time to read. Curled up with the lil' Fox for long stretches of the day, I realized I really wanted to be able to read one-handed, and to have my choice of books quickly available. This change in thinking is rather in line with my growing detachment from other material possessions. It would be disingenuous to claim a genuinely anti-materialist dogma, as I do enjoy many comforts and luxuries in my life. A more accurate description would be a relaxing of my grip on the significance of the material of things. Since the start of last year, I've read quite a few good books and have been eager to catalogue them to aid my own remembrance.

A list.  

Nonfiction:  
Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn 
Lie My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen (still in the middle of this one)  
Woman: An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier  
Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World by Lisa Bloom  
Classic Poetry by Edna St. Vincent Millay (still working my way through this in spurts)  
The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan  
The Kazdin Method for Parenting the Defiant Child by Alan Kazdin 
The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children by Wendy Mogel by Erik Larson  
My Two-Year-Old Eats Octopus by Nancy Tringali Piho  
Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches From the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture by Peggy Orenstein  

Fiction:  
Fear of Flying by Erica Jong  
The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett  
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mark Haddon  
On Beauty by Zadie Smith  
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire  
Saturday by Ian McEwan  

Drama:  
The Clean House and Other Plays by Sarah Ruhl 

I also read a handful of actual, physical books, including a lot of Everything You Never Wanted Your Kids to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid They'd Ask): The Secrets to Surviving Your Child's Sexual Development by Justin Richardson and Mark Schustermost, On Becoming Baby Wise: Giving Your Infant the Gift of Nighttime Sleep by Gary Ezzo and Robert Bucknam, and most of The Lolita Effect: The Media Sexualization of Young Girls and What We Can Do About It by Meenakshi Gigi Durham. 

Assessment:
I'm grateful to have had so much time to read this past year (though conflicted on having little time for anything else).  I feel I should balance out my nonfiction reading with more literature.  Also, I should really make an effort to find more drama in digital form.

Little One

As an artist I've often thought about my work as something to nurture (evven as it nourishes me), and I have at times felt motherly towards my casts, but the actual work of childcare ocupies my time and clouds my mind, making it a challenge to contemplate my work. I've only been without my helpmate a single day, and already my role feels demanding and my art far from my grasp. Yet, with my little one at my breast, I tap out some thoughts one-handed on my nook, and I smile.

Slow Down

I went to the Clark Art Institute today. I initially declined the audio guide, thinking I didn't want to tune out my companions, but on second thought went back for the audio device. I like to learn about what I'm viewing. But more importantly, listening to the commentary forces me to spend more time looking at each individual work. As a TA in grad school, I assisted a professor who required his students to draw any object of their choosing during a museum visit and record the thoughts that occurred to them as they sketched. The exercise forced them to slow down, and by spending more time with the object, to consider many aspects of the work--the materials, design, decoration, use, intended user, etc.--and by extension of all of these aspects, to consider what could be learned about the people who made the object. This is a useful lesson for anyone who enjoys museum exhibits, whether art or cultural objects. I am reminded, within my art, to consider my own choices thoughtfully and thoroughly.

I Am Fortunate

I've been reading an important book. It's called Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, by married couple Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. I AM a feminist and I DO know that oppression is a daily burden for women in many places of the world, but I often feel so distant from the problem. The authors of this book are journalists who, through their work, witnessed many instances of this oppression first hand and knew they needed to do something to try to change things. In their book, they tell the horrifying stories of individuals kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery, subjected to violent attacks and rapes, injured or killed during childbirth due to the low prioritizing of medical care for women, and numerous other injustices. The individual stories stand in for the unbelievably high number of girls and women suffering, and they help a reader like me sympathize on a deeper level than statistics can. Whenever I turn my gaze back out into the more distant world, I remember that I should do more with my life to make a difference. The privilege I enjoy is due to nothing more than good luck. I need to give thought and do research to see what I can do to help. I'll start here: http://www.halftheskymovement.org.

Collecting Dust

I was at used a book store in the Berkshires this week and found a lovely picture book that I wanted to buy for Sebastian. (It was Anno's Alphabet by Mitsumasa Anno, if you're wondering.) Seeing an old price sticker inside, I thought it was around $12, but the proprietor alerted me to the fact that it was actually $30, due to it being a first edition. I declined the purchase, but it got me thinking about the value put onto an item merely because it is old. I realized that I'm not a collector. I may have once felt differently about this, but these days I don't care too much about the physical object in possession. Jay has pointed out how the presence of an object can help invoke precious memories, and I believe he is right about this. Nevertheless, the notion of a book having more monetary value because of the idea of the desirability of a first edition seems like a self-perpetuating, inflated loop. It makes such a noble (and humble) thing as a book into an elitist token. I had to look up the quote about knowledge being the great equalizer--it was written by Horace Mann, an American education reformer and, appropriately enough, a representative from Massachusetts. "Education then, beyond all other devices of human origin, is the great equalizer of the conditions of men, the balance-wheel of the social machinery." So it was education he was writing about, but I think the idea has a strong connection to books and reading. Books are beautiful, wonderful, meaningful, powerful, all these things, and more. But their value comes from their content, the ideas contained within. I believe purveyors of used books generally go into their field motivated by a sincere love of books, but I think their work is, at times, at odds with the intention of books. The collectible status shifts the value of the book from the content to the object.

As a side note, I just learned a little bit about Horace Mann, whose statue stands outside the Massachusetts State House. I particularly like this quote of his: "Be Ashamed to Die Until You Have Won Some Victory for Humanity." I'd better get on that.