The Mass Accountability of Mass Murder
Oliver Stone’s 1994 Natural Born Killers is a cultural artifact that highlights the intersection of film and journalistic media outlets, perpetuating violence. Vincent Sacco’s “Media Constructions of Crime” gives an authoritative account of that ways in which private crimes are made into public concerns by media outlets, in an ever-growing wave of “infotainment” news. Mickey and Mallory Knox, the two serial killer lovers in Natural Born Killers, act as representations of criminal celebrities of sorts. One of the other successes of the film is the character development of “American Maniacs” Reporter Wayne Gail. Gail, specifically, is a catalyst for developing the private criminal acts of Mickey and Mallory into widely consumed and highly manufactured mass media. So, while some characters are natural born killers themselves, we see that others play the equally important role of actively perpetuating and creating a demand for the violence. The characters’ interconnected stories within the film, concretized by Sacco’s “Media Constructions of Crime”, collectively speak towards the argument that in the act of listening, watching and consuming violent news stories, we as a culture have all perpetuated the intensity and sheer amount of violence that is so pervasive within American media and society.
In the director’s cut of Natural Born Killers, Oliver Stone explains, “when I looked around and wanted to make movie about the 90s, I guess it was subconsciously all around me, and through osmosis when you watch TV and are exposed to this culture, you end up realizing that it really is the age of absurdity.”
The portrayal of “American Maniacs” is very much in line with “infotainment” news shows such as “Dateline” or a crime segment of “60 Minutes.” At the opening of the show we see a flashy graphic with synthesized music, underlying text which informs the viewer that the show they are about to watch is not only written, but also produced and directed by Wayne Gail himself. Already, he is a one-man show of sorts. The opening sequence alone shows us black and white close up pictures of Charles Manson, Charles Whitman and Richard Ramirez, inferring that Mickey and Mallory Knox, as far as serial killers go, are on par with some of the more infamous murderers of decades past. These images are interspersed with video clips of Wayne Gail himself, donning a bullet proof vest, wrestling prisoners to the ground, and kicking in doors while armed police stand by. The shots are significant in that we suddenly realize that Wayne Gail is more than a just a journalist. He is portrayed as being part of the policing force behind these arrests. Sacco asserts that at times, “the crime wave originated in the efforts of journalists to organize individual crime stories around a compelling news theme” (148). If Gail is not only the reporter, but also part of the law enforcement, then where does he cross the line in terms of objective reporting? He is, in a sense, making the very crime stories that he reports on, creating a very troublesome dichotomy so characteristic in many of the crime stories reported in the 1990s.
Perhaps even more troublesome than the images portrayed in the “American Maniacs” introduction sequence, is Gail’s rhetoric used throughout his report. Journalistic rhetoric, as defined by Sacco, “…serves to impress on readers and viewers the gravity of particular crime problems and the need to confront them in particular ways” (147). Considering this concept, it is especially incriminating to hear the ways in which Gail recounts the path of Mickey and Mallory Knox in his initial episode. It is not insignificant that he is standing on highway 666 to introduce his report, explaining, “to some it is a beautiful stretch of American landscape, but to Mickey and Mallory Knows, who are still at large, it is literally a candy lane of mayhem and murder.” Practically within the same breath, Gail describes their killing spree as a “reign of terror.” This rhetoric, when thoughtfully considered is almost humorous, if not at least gratuitous in its imagery. However, comparing this rhetoric to that of standard news reports, it proves to be pretty standard fare. Crime or drug use especially are usually described in news segments in terms of plagues, epidemics, floods or even “a spreading cancer” in some instances (Gorelick, 147). Within this fictitious moment of Natural Born Killers, the stakes are lowered and as viewers we are allowed to think about the rhetoric in terms of what it actually means, and not as a metaphor for what is often, in actuality, a very grave and serious matter being presented by our national news networks.
From the introductory sequence, we are suddenly taken into the editing room of the news station where the segment is being manipulated. It is a jolting reminder that what we just viewed is in fact a premeditated and manufactured piece of work. Sacco even argues that the media is a “...forum in which private troubles are selectively gathered up, invested with a broader meaning, and made available for public consumption” (Sacco, 142). In other words, without investigatory reporter Wayne Gail on the story, we have to wonder whether or not we ever would have been exposed to the tale of Mickey and Mallory Knox to begin with.
Having just watched the introduction segment, Wayne Gail’s video editor tells Gail, “we really raped and pillaged the first show to do this- you need a new intro in my opinion- you can’t cannibalize yourself all the time-“ Before he can even finish his suggestion, Gail asserts, “Repetition works, David. Ok? Do you think those nit wits out there in zombie land remember anything? It’s junk food for the brains, you know, filler, fodder, whatever. Just build it up to the interview!” This exchange makes the viewer suddenly aware of all of the times that they may have seen repetitive news footage without even thinking twice about it. What is more, the exchange serves as an important commentary on the role that crime reporting has taken in the larger context of journalism across the board. Sacco suggests that crime coverage began as a kind of filler for many mainstream newspapers, as it could be easily manipulated into filling whatever surplus space was left in the copy. A study “…of crime news in Chicago newspapers found, for instance, that crime reports were often located on the obituary pages so that layout difficulties…could be overcome through the use of crime news filler” (144-45). This study suggests that crime reporting is fundamentally fit for manipulation, as it is possible to report the same story to varying degrees of detail. In other words, crime news and reportage especially, can be edited to fit the particular demands of consumption.
After a brief “real-time” encounter with the editor and Wayne Gail himself, the viewer is launched back into the rest of the segment. Here begins a quickly paced, highly-edited sequence of American citizens who have rallied around the Mickey and Mallory in one way or another. A group of three teen-age males stand together in an interview, the middle of the group attesting to the fact that “Mickey and Mallory are the best thing to happen to murder since Manson, but they’re way cooler.” His friend chimes in, in saying, “I’m not saying I believe in mass murder and that shit, don’t get us wrong, I mean we respect human life and all, but if I was a mass murderer, I’d be Mickey and Mallory.” Here, the commentary on the value of human life is so secondary to the praise and complements aimed towards Mickey and Mallory. Suddenly, these two mass murderers are not just subjects isolated to a news report, but rather, they are in fact celebrities of sorts.
Next in the sequence are quick shots of headlines featured in major American news sources such as USA Today, People and Time. On the cover of People, specifically, the headline reads: “Sex on the Run: America’s Naughtiest Couple Tells All” overlaid on a candid snapshot of the couple’s faces. The headline infers that a journalist from People arranged a lengthy, candid interview with two mass murderers who also happened to be on the run from the police. Their recognition and celebration within these publications is not congruent with the ways in which a criminal is usually thought to be treated, but rather, it is representative of a major shift in the importance, perhaps even scholarship of crime reporting.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Cultural Work of Memoirs
The Vietnam War: A Separation of Body and Mind
The Vietnam War came at a time in American history when citizens were already divided on issues of race, gender and class. For some, including author and Vietnam veteran Tim O'Brien, the reasons for fighting overseas were unjustified or at least unclear. With the understanding that memoirs are limited interpretations of history, O'Brien's If I Die in a Combat Zone is especially significant in terms its commentary on the idea of separation of mind and body. Combat in Vietnam allowed for soldiers to consider themselves and their existence in the most fundamental way. Minds became prisoner to the body during combat, and after duty was over, the mind helped the body to come to terms with what it had endured. Culturally, it is hard to separate the institution of the military from images of hard bodies and hyper-masculinity. By identifying the separation of mind and body that occurs in combat, O’Brien’s memoir inevitably poses a counter-definition of what it is to actually be a man in the military. In the aftermath of a war consisting of countless casualties and unknown threats, O'Brien's memoir works culturally to attach a face, a mind and a being to what was considered just a body, part of a head count, in the eyes of the U.S. Army.
From the start, O'Brien makes it clear that he was both morally and politically opposed to the Vietnam War. It is a fair enough statement, undoubtedly shared by many of the time period, but his stance takes on a new significance based on the fact that he actually had to go to war, risk his life and take the lives of others. O'Brien talks at length about this moment in his life, saying, "it was an intellectual and physical standoff, and I did not have the energy to see it to an end. I did not want to be a soldier, even an observer of war" (O'Brien, 22). Immediately, his memoir establishes a troublesome dichotomy between his mind and his young, able body.
O'Brien's account of his basic training experience illuminates his begrudging transition from civilian into soldier. He arrives without the intention of making friends, and with intense thoughts of desertion weighing heavily on his mind. However, by the time O'Brien was to leave, not only had he made a close friend, but he had also, somewhat successfully, fulfilled all of his requirements. Part of O'Brien's transition within basic training is largely due to his ability to make a compromise between intellectual and physical concession. Between him and Erik, "our private conversations were the cornerstone of the resistance, perhaps because talking about basic training in careful, honest words was by itself an insult to army education. Simply to think and talk and try to understand was evidence that we were not cattle or machines" (Obrien, 35). In other words, physical trials and demands could be ameliorated as long as he could maintain his intellectual integrity, judgment and sensitivity.
It is not insignificant that O'Brien spends a considerable amount of time discussing the monotony of life in the army. His discussion works to temper the false or glorified grandeur of some war stories. The truth is, he was not always in the line of fire, nor did he ever make any valiant rescues. O’Brien recalls,"...we concentrated on the heat and the fatigue and the simple notions of the march. It went that way for hours. One leg, the next leg. Legs counted the days" (O'Brien, 3). Imagery of feet and legs are described as almost machine-like, propelling O'Brien further and further into the combat zone of a war that he did not believe in. Notice it is not the number of casualties or wounds that is said to count the days, but rather, it is the living, working flesh of his legs that is quantified.
With his dissenting political views previously established, use of bodily imagery becomes even more objectifying. O’Brien describes a particular march, referring to his legs as a “packhorse for the soul” (26). There is no question here that O’Brien made a mental separation between his mind and body. What is more, his use of language and imagery suggests a physical separation of his body. He asserts, “the left leg does it all…stretches with magnificent energy, long muscle. Lumbers ahead. It’s the strongest leg, the pivot” (O’Brien, 26). The verbs “lumber” and “pivot” sound industrial and almost super-human. The recollections make him sound like a bystander to the actions of his own body. He is indeed observing the workings of his body separately from his emotions.
*** I am still grappling with everything that this assignment entails and the use of historical evidence, so I have posted my thesis and paragraphs with textual evidence from O'Brien. More than any other draft that I have ever posted, this is a work in progress:
The Vietnam War came at a time in American history when citizens were already divided on issues of race, gender and class. For some, including author and Vietnam veteran Tim O'Brien, the reasons for fighting overseas were unjustified or at least unclear. With the understanding that memoirs are limited interpretations of history, O'Brien's If I Die in a Combat Zone is especially significant in terms its commentary on the idea of separation of mind and body. Combat in Vietnam allowed for soldiers to consider themselves and their existence in the most fundamental way. Minds became prisoner to the body during combat, and after duty was over, the mind helped the body to come to terms with what it had endured. Culturally, it is hard to separate the institution of the military from images of hard bodies and hyper-masculinity. By identifying the separation of mind and body that occurs in combat, O’Brien’s memoir inevitably poses a counter-definition of what it is to actually be a man in the military. In the aftermath of a war consisting of countless casualties and unknown threats, O'Brien's memoir works culturally to attach a face, a mind and a being to what was considered just a body, part of a head count, in the eyes of the U.S. Army.
From the start, O'Brien makes it clear that he was both morally and politically opposed to the Vietnam War. It is a fair enough statement, undoubtedly shared by many of the time period, but his stance takes on a new significance based on the fact that he actually had to go to war, risk his life and take the lives of others. O'Brien talks at length about this moment in his life, saying, "it was an intellectual and physical standoff, and I did not have the energy to see it to an end. I did not want to be a soldier, even an observer of war" (O'Brien, 22). Immediately, his memoir establishes a troublesome dichotomy between his mind and his young, able body.
O'Brien's account of his basic training experience illuminates his begrudging transition from civilian into soldier. He arrives without the intention of making friends, and with intense thoughts of desertion weighing heavily on his mind. However, by the time O'Brien was to leave, not only had he made a close friend, but he had also, somewhat successfully, fulfilled all of his requirements. Part of O'Brien's transition within basic training is largely due to his ability to make a compromise between intellectual and physical concession. Between him and Erik, "our private conversations were the cornerstone of the resistance, perhaps because talking about basic training in careful, honest words was by itself an insult to army education. Simply to think and talk and try to understand was evidence that we were not cattle or machines" (Obrien, 35). In other words, physical trials and demands could be ameliorated as long as he could maintain his intellectual integrity, judgment and sensitivity.
It is not insignificant that O'Brien spends a considerable amount of time discussing the monotony of life in the army. His discussion works to temper the false or glorified grandeur of some war stories. The truth is, he was not always in the line of fire, nor did he ever make any valiant rescues. O’Brien recalls,"...we concentrated on the heat and the fatigue and the simple notions of the march. It went that way for hours. One leg, the next leg. Legs counted the days" (O'Brien, 3). Imagery of feet and legs are described as almost machine-like, propelling O'Brien further and further into the combat zone of a war that he did not believe in. Notice it is not the number of casualties or wounds that is said to count the days, but rather, it is the living, working flesh of his legs that is quantified.
With his dissenting political views previously established, use of bodily imagery becomes even more objectifying. O’Brien describes a particular march, referring to his legs as a “packhorse for the soul” (26). There is no question here that O’Brien made a mental separation between his mind and body. What is more, his use of language and imagery suggests a physical separation of his body. He asserts, “the left leg does it all…stretches with magnificent energy, long muscle. Lumbers ahead. It’s the strongest leg, the pivot” (O’Brien, 26). The verbs “lumber” and “pivot” sound industrial and almost super-human. The recollections make him sound like a bystander to the actions of his own body. He is indeed observing the workings of his body separately from his emotions.
*** I am still grappling with everything that this assignment entails and the use of historical evidence, so I have posted my thesis and paragraphs with textual evidence from O'Brien. More than any other draft that I have ever posted, this is a work in progress:
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
New Deal Draft
America was a changed cultural landscape after the depression hit in 1929. While politicians, artists and cultural theorists alike grappled with exactly what America was to do in the face of such financial hardship, the wake of the depression also redefined the relationship between the individual American and the collective United States. Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s “Commonwealth Club Address” speaks to the important, albeit unglamorous, challenge of the American citizen to enact change in every day life, and for the American government to rebuild upon resources and infrastructure already established before the Depression. Furthermore, it is through individual dedication in combination with government aid that the United States could meet a collective goal. Seymour Fogel’s mural entitled “Security of the Family” captures this integration of individual might in a collective family setting. In sharp contrast, Mervyn LeRoy’s film Gold Diggers of 1933 is an example of mass media that celebrated Herbert Hoover’s notion of laissez-faire liberalism. In the film, the emphasis is on a group of individuals coming together to create a beneficial product as a whole, with little to no reference about the importance of the individual or financial hardship. Contrasting these two primary sources shows us that the most successful visual cultural materials of the thirties were those that spoke neither towards individual initiative nor collective group action, but in fact, a combination of the two, as it was this message that was most inclusive of United States demographics of the thirties.
It should not go without mention that the very existence of visual cultural material such as film and photography undoubtedly changed the American public’s interaction with matters of national importance, such as the Depression and The New Deal. Seeing fellow Americans, whether prospering or in need, established a new set of stakes for the American citizen and their involvement in turning the economy around. Warren Susman in Culture as History suggests, “the shift to a culture of sight and sound…helped create a unity of response and action not previously possible; it made us more susceptible than ever to those who could mold culture and thought (160). It is plausible that the eventual widespread success of FDR’s governmental policies was largely due to their significance on the level of the everyday individual as a part of a larger American whole.
During his commonwealth address in 1932, Roosevelt posed, “I want to invite you…to consider with me in the large, some of the relationships of government and economic life that go deeply into our daily lives, our happiness, our future and our security” (2). This invitation is telling of Roosevelt’s strategic method of combining the political with the personal. What is more, Roosevelt speaks with the authority of a president, and his “invitation” works to make him that much more accessible as a leader. So, he is asking that the American public not only entertain these political and economic on a daily basis, but also, he asks to join America in thinking of the necessary resolutions. Again, this particular message is a combination of proposed problem solving on an individual and international level.
Seymour Fogel’s “Security of the Family” portrays the various members of a family engaged in activities that serve to both maintain household life and extend beyond its reaches. We see themes of literacy, education, good parenting and even sportsmanship. It is especially interesting to note that while each family member is involved in something different from one another, the composition of the mural allows for the activities to become overlapping upon one another. The emotive and compositional facets of this mural are telling of “…a basic truth about the decade: the need to feel one’s self a part of some larger body, some larger sense of purpose” (Susman, 172). That sense of purpose and their success as a familial unit as it exists in this image is dependent on every individual completing their task to the best of their ability. Not one person in this photo bears a facial expression that is anything but understanding and resolute.
Here, Fogel has captured a moment in familial life, which many Americans could have associated with in the thirties. The individual, and the work of that individual, is validated in a familial sense, but also on a national front. Roosevelt himself proposed, “our government formal and informal, political and economic, owes to every one an avenue to possess himself of a portion of that plenty sufficient for his needs, through his own work” (6). Roosevelt wished to create a symbiotic relationship between the people and the government. What is more, within the realm of “the people” he wished to recognize the value of the individual separately, but just as equally as the whole of the nation. Just as the government should extend the resources to the individual man, necessary to make a life for himself, successful cultural media of the time period was that which elicited a response, or somehow validated the American on an individual, more personal level.
In sharp contrast to these images, LeRoy’s Gold Diggers of 1933 is a film which exemplifies Herbert Hoover’s notion that images of American wealth and prosperity could have been achieved without the government intervention as laid out by The New Deal. In the opening scene, we are overwhelmed with a large dance number where women’s bodies are used as parts to create a whole image. Here, the emphasis is not on the individual. They dance and sing the words, “the long lost dollar has come back into the fold, we’ve got a lot of what it takes to get by; we’re in the money...” Not only do they have the money, but in fact they have so much of it that they are literally wearing it. The lyrics fail to help the viewer understand exactly how this money came back into the economy, and how these women happened to acquire it. In addition to the lyrics, the visuals emphasize the flashy end product without supplying any notion of the individual struggle or economic hardship that it took to get there.
The one example of individualism that the film does provide is the sub plot of Polly Parker, an unremarkable backup dancer who ultimately gets to be the star of the show. This extreme advancement, both socially and monetarily speaking, seems unfounded if not arbitrary. More so than hard work or personal virtue, Polly is singled out largely for being in the right place at the right time. So, not only does this film fail to reach a large audience by the very fact that it is a film that costs money to view, but it also sends the message that of the crowd of viewers, very few will be plucked out of their circumstances, as Polly was. It leaves the rest of the masses personally unaccounted for, if not doomed, to an anonymous life working towards a common goal.
Perhaps the most striking impression from Gold Diggers of 1933 is this notion that financial hardship is temporary and surmountable. In fact, the oppressive reality that is poverty is debased in one of the very first lines of the film, as Trixie says, jovially, “let’s get up for work, I hate starving in bed!” The comment suggests that the girls will be starving no matter where they go, but at least they will be rehearsing for a musical number if they are at work. Here arises this troublesome ethic to shine and produce, no matter the cost.
In the “Commonwealth Club Address,” Roosevelt harnesses this notion, suggesting that instead, “our task now is not discovery, or exploitation of natural resources, or necessarily producing more goods. It is the soberer, less dramatic business of administering resources…already at hand” (6). It is the acknowledgment of the hard road ahead, and the necessary discipline and integrity on the part of the individual. For the sake of our own comparison, it is not the grand splendor of the theater, but the “less dramatic,” “soberer” application of daily sacrifices on the part of the individual that is needed to lead America towards a common goal.
While the vast majority of people within the United States in the thirties were not theatrical showgirls, such as those depicted in Gold Diggers of 1933, many people could earnestly identify with images of the workingman or the dutiful mother, as depicted in Seymour Fogel’s murals. Cultural images, such as Fogel’s, in combination with Roosevelt’s policies, proved to be more successful in terms of reaching a larger audience. These images struck a chord both with the personal and the nationalistic side of a person, ultimately validating a national audience, wrought by the Depression.
It should not go without mention that the very existence of visual cultural material such as film and photography undoubtedly changed the American public’s interaction with matters of national importance, such as the Depression and The New Deal. Seeing fellow Americans, whether prospering or in need, established a new set of stakes for the American citizen and their involvement in turning the economy around. Warren Susman in Culture as History suggests, “the shift to a culture of sight and sound…helped create a unity of response and action not previously possible; it made us more susceptible than ever to those who could mold culture and thought (160). It is plausible that the eventual widespread success of FDR’s governmental policies was largely due to their significance on the level of the everyday individual as a part of a larger American whole.
During his commonwealth address in 1932, Roosevelt posed, “I want to invite you…to consider with me in the large, some of the relationships of government and economic life that go deeply into our daily lives, our happiness, our future and our security” (2). This invitation is telling of Roosevelt’s strategic method of combining the political with the personal. What is more, Roosevelt speaks with the authority of a president, and his “invitation” works to make him that much more accessible as a leader. So, he is asking that the American public not only entertain these political and economic on a daily basis, but also, he asks to join America in thinking of the necessary resolutions. Again, this particular message is a combination of proposed problem solving on an individual and international level.
Seymour Fogel’s “Security of the Family” portrays the various members of a family engaged in activities that serve to both maintain household life and extend beyond its reaches. We see themes of literacy, education, good parenting and even sportsmanship. It is especially interesting to note that while each family member is involved in something different from one another, the composition of the mural allows for the activities to become overlapping upon one another. The emotive and compositional facets of this mural are telling of “…a basic truth about the decade: the need to feel one’s self a part of some larger body, some larger sense of purpose” (Susman, 172). That sense of purpose and their success as a familial unit as it exists in this image is dependent on every individual completing their task to the best of their ability. Not one person in this photo bears a facial expression that is anything but understanding and resolute.
Here, Fogel has captured a moment in familial life, which many Americans could have associated with in the thirties. The individual, and the work of that individual, is validated in a familial sense, but also on a national front. Roosevelt himself proposed, “our government formal and informal, political and economic, owes to every one an avenue to possess himself of a portion of that plenty sufficient for his needs, through his own work” (6). Roosevelt wished to create a symbiotic relationship between the people and the government. What is more, within the realm of “the people” he wished to recognize the value of the individual separately, but just as equally as the whole of the nation. Just as the government should extend the resources to the individual man, necessary to make a life for himself, successful cultural media of the time period was that which elicited a response, or somehow validated the American on an individual, more personal level.
In sharp contrast to these images, LeRoy’s Gold Diggers of 1933 is a film which exemplifies Herbert Hoover’s notion that images of American wealth and prosperity could have been achieved without the government intervention as laid out by The New Deal. In the opening scene, we are overwhelmed with a large dance number where women’s bodies are used as parts to create a whole image. Here, the emphasis is not on the individual. They dance and sing the words, “the long lost dollar has come back into the fold, we’ve got a lot of what it takes to get by; we’re in the money...” Not only do they have the money, but in fact they have so much of it that they are literally wearing it. The lyrics fail to help the viewer understand exactly how this money came back into the economy, and how these women happened to acquire it. In addition to the lyrics, the visuals emphasize the flashy end product without supplying any notion of the individual struggle or economic hardship that it took to get there.
The one example of individualism that the film does provide is the sub plot of Polly Parker, an unremarkable backup dancer who ultimately gets to be the star of the show. This extreme advancement, both socially and monetarily speaking, seems unfounded if not arbitrary. More so than hard work or personal virtue, Polly is singled out largely for being in the right place at the right time. So, not only does this film fail to reach a large audience by the very fact that it is a film that costs money to view, but it also sends the message that of the crowd of viewers, very few will be plucked out of their circumstances, as Polly was. It leaves the rest of the masses personally unaccounted for, if not doomed, to an anonymous life working towards a common goal.
Perhaps the most striking impression from Gold Diggers of 1933 is this notion that financial hardship is temporary and surmountable. In fact, the oppressive reality that is poverty is debased in one of the very first lines of the film, as Trixie says, jovially, “let’s get up for work, I hate starving in bed!” The comment suggests that the girls will be starving no matter where they go, but at least they will be rehearsing for a musical number if they are at work. Here arises this troublesome ethic to shine and produce, no matter the cost.
In the “Commonwealth Club Address,” Roosevelt harnesses this notion, suggesting that instead, “our task now is not discovery, or exploitation of natural resources, or necessarily producing more goods. It is the soberer, less dramatic business of administering resources…already at hand” (6). It is the acknowledgment of the hard road ahead, and the necessary discipline and integrity on the part of the individual. For the sake of our own comparison, it is not the grand splendor of the theater, but the “less dramatic,” “soberer” application of daily sacrifices on the part of the individual that is needed to lead America towards a common goal.
While the vast majority of people within the United States in the thirties were not theatrical showgirls, such as those depicted in Gold Diggers of 1933, many people could earnestly identify with images of the workingman or the dutiful mother, as depicted in Seymour Fogel’s murals. Cultural images, such as Fogel’s, in combination with Roosevelt’s policies, proved to be more successful in terms of reaching a larger audience. These images struck a chord both with the personal and the nationalistic side of a person, ultimately validating a national audience, wrought by the Depression.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Rough Draft: "Modes of Whiteness"
At the turn of the twentieth century, native-born white Americans continued to impose discrimination upon African Americans. In part, it was the rise of a consumer culture and a black migration to U.S. cities, which allowed for blacks and their contemporaries to counter the white culture's demeaning significations towards them. Alain Locke's "Enter the New Negro" identifies the plight of the African Americans of that time, and defines what they wanted out of the American experience. Part of that American, consumer experience can be articulated by the rise of the cosmetics industry, as discussed by Kathy Peiss. Both Peiss and Locke's works are represented in the photos of James Van Der Zee, who captures the new African American in moments of "whiteness." These three works collectively assert that the African American’s strongest defense in the face of white degradation was to become more "white" themselves, specifically through appearance and patterns of consumption.
While the Jim Crow laws were very definitive of the treatment of blacks at the turn of the century, there was also specific, harmful ideology at play in American culture. For example, Alain Locke establishes the definition of the “new negro” first by defining the “old negro.” Locke explains, “…for generations in the mind of America, the negro has been more of a formula than a human being- something to be argued about, condemned or defended, to be ‘kept down,’ or ‘in his place,’ or ‘helped up…’” (Locke, 1). Notice that “America,” here, is defined as a complete entity separate from the African American population. America, according to Locke, does not denote a sense of home or belonging for black people, but rather some kind of mechanism that has a mind of its own. This said “mind “ allowed white Americans to discriminate, control, and define blacks as something other than itself.
The black population’s journey from that of a “formula” to “human being,” in Locke’s terms, would require specific material acquirements in light of the emerging consumer economy. Locke asserts, “The negro mind reaches out as yet to nothing but American wants, American ideas. But this forced attempt to build his Americanism on race values is a unique social experiment, and its ultimate success is impossible except through the fullest sharing of American culture and institutions” (Locke, 5). In other words, it was consumerism, specifically, that allowed for blacks to acquire possessions that could redefine not only their material wealth, but also their physical appearance- the combination of which, would ultimately follow in the vein of white gentility.
Using the early twentieth century cosmetics industry as an example, we can look at some of the fundamental ways in which African American women participated in methods of social mobility. Peiss discusses the “democracy of cosmetics,” which arose in this time period. That is, beauty products were made accessible to the women of this generation to the extent that they had little excuse not to invest in their beauty. It is the reason why the Elizabeth Arden Company could gross $2 million domestically by the year 1925 alone (Peiss, 377).
What is more, the democracy of beauty allowed for black women, specifically, to become routine consumers. Peiss explains, “ …the dominant culture’s ascription of promiscuity to black women led them to stress the importance of looking respectable. For black women, hair care, including straightening, was one external marker of personal success and racial progress…” (Peiss, 383). So, not only did the material possession of cosmetic products signify outer beauty for all women, but more importantly, cosmetics came to signify an African American woman’s inner morals and social standing.
Van Der Zee’s photograph, “Harlem socialites at five o’clock tea,” portrays a group of four black women sitting in a parlor, apparently taking part in what was previously regarded as a very Anglo-Saxon ritual. What is more, however, is that every woman wore their hair straightened and modestly parted. The image is telling of its time, as it directly reflects the ethic of a cosmetics industry in which “…white racism had symbolically linked the supposed ‘natural’ inferiority of Blacks to an appearance marked by unruly, ‘kinky’ hair” (Peiss, 383). The alternative, then, was to follow the example of what was largely a white-dominated industry, and as a Black woman, you mirrored your beauty routines after that of white women.
African American men of this time period are faced with a comparable struggle, trying to make their way financially and socially. Van Der Zee’s portrait of a young, pensive, black soldier captures just this. Similar to the portrait of the black ladies having tea, it appears as though this young man has been dropped into his surroundings-in this case, a decidedly white, upper class study of some sort. He wears a beautiful uniform as he sits in a well-appointed room, and yet the toiling expression on his face makes the viewer ask, at what price is this young man serving his country?
Locke explains the dichotomy facing this young man. Up until this time in history, the black man had experienced an America, “…which has most undervalued him, and here he has contributed not only materially in labor and in social patience, but in spiritually as well” (Locke, 7). In order to be recognized for his contributions, the African American man must walk in the footsteps of his white leaders, just as this young man has done by enlisting himself in the army. It is through white, culturally supported institutions, such as the U.S. Army, that black men can make a contribution to society in a way that will not be in vain.
Locke highlights another social dichotomy that largely led black men to embrace modes of whiteness. “Enter the New Negro” establishes that “the intelligent negro of today is resolved not to make discrimination an extenuation for his shortcomings in performance, individual or collective; he is trying to hold himself at par…” (Locke, 3). In moving forward, beyond time-old grudges of racism and oppression, black men were again given the opportunity to advance themselves based on lifestyle choices that reflected the tastes of white American culture of the time. Van der zee’s “Family portrait with children at piano,” portrays a black family in a fancy living room setting. Recalling from Peiss’ discussion about cosmetics, it is interesting to note that all four of the family members, notably the two baby boys, have straight, parted hair. The father stands in a three piece suit watching fondly as his young sons sit at the piano. Not only have the mother and father conformed to “white” modes of fashion and lifestyle themeselves, but the portrait suggests that they have also dedicated their lives to raising their sons in that said fashion.
As historical writers such as Kathy Peiss, and photographers such as James Van Der Zee have documented, many African Americans’ chosen modes of Americanization tended to mimic that of a white lifestyle at the beginning of the twentieth century. Becoming more “white” was a cultural decision embraced by many African Americans, that has a social agenda, more profound and more noble than what may be initially evident. For those who questioned the allegiance of black citizens embracing whiteness at the turn of the century, Locke aptly explains, “we realize that we cannot be undone without America’s undoing” (5). Becoming more “white” was not so much of an oppressive compromise as it was a sound cultural claim that black people could look, act and function just as white Americans did.
Ultimately, in the midst of relocating themselves in the socio-economic realm, up against years of demeaning significations and racial oppression, the African American community countered previously established ideologies through white physical appearance and patterns of consumption.
While the Jim Crow laws were very definitive of the treatment of blacks at the turn of the century, there was also specific, harmful ideology at play in American culture. For example, Alain Locke establishes the definition of the “new negro” first by defining the “old negro.” Locke explains, “…for generations in the mind of America, the negro has been more of a formula than a human being- something to be argued about, condemned or defended, to be ‘kept down,’ or ‘in his place,’ or ‘helped up…’” (Locke, 1). Notice that “America,” here, is defined as a complete entity separate from the African American population. America, according to Locke, does not denote a sense of home or belonging for black people, but rather some kind of mechanism that has a mind of its own. This said “mind “ allowed white Americans to discriminate, control, and define blacks as something other than itself.
The black population’s journey from that of a “formula” to “human being,” in Locke’s terms, would require specific material acquirements in light of the emerging consumer economy. Locke asserts, “The negro mind reaches out as yet to nothing but American wants, American ideas. But this forced attempt to build his Americanism on race values is a unique social experiment, and its ultimate success is impossible except through the fullest sharing of American culture and institutions” (Locke, 5). In other words, it was consumerism, specifically, that allowed for blacks to acquire possessions that could redefine not only their material wealth, but also their physical appearance- the combination of which, would ultimately follow in the vein of white gentility.
Using the early twentieth century cosmetics industry as an example, we can look at some of the fundamental ways in which African American women participated in methods of social mobility. Peiss discusses the “democracy of cosmetics,” which arose in this time period. That is, beauty products were made accessible to the women of this generation to the extent that they had little excuse not to invest in their beauty. It is the reason why the Elizabeth Arden Company could gross $2 million domestically by the year 1925 alone (Peiss, 377).
What is more, the democracy of beauty allowed for black women, specifically, to become routine consumers. Peiss explains, “ …the dominant culture’s ascription of promiscuity to black women led them to stress the importance of looking respectable. For black women, hair care, including straightening, was one external marker of personal success and racial progress…” (Peiss, 383). So, not only did the material possession of cosmetic products signify outer beauty for all women, but more importantly, cosmetics came to signify an African American woman’s inner morals and social standing.
Van Der Zee’s photograph, “Harlem socialites at five o’clock tea,” portrays a group of four black women sitting in a parlor, apparently taking part in what was previously regarded as a very Anglo-Saxon ritual. What is more, however, is that every woman wore their hair straightened and modestly parted. The image is telling of its time, as it directly reflects the ethic of a cosmetics industry in which “…white racism had symbolically linked the supposed ‘natural’ inferiority of Blacks to an appearance marked by unruly, ‘kinky’ hair” (Peiss, 383). The alternative, then, was to follow the example of what was largely a white-dominated industry, and as a Black woman, you mirrored your beauty routines after that of white women.
African American men of this time period are faced with a comparable struggle, trying to make their way financially and socially. Van Der Zee’s portrait of a young, pensive, black soldier captures just this. Similar to the portrait of the black ladies having tea, it appears as though this young man has been dropped into his surroundings-in this case, a decidedly white, upper class study of some sort. He wears a beautiful uniform as he sits in a well-appointed room, and yet the toiling expression on his face makes the viewer ask, at what price is this young man serving his country?
Locke explains the dichotomy facing this young man. Up until this time in history, the black man had experienced an America, “…which has most undervalued him, and here he has contributed not only materially in labor and in social patience, but in spiritually as well” (Locke, 7). In order to be recognized for his contributions, the African American man must walk in the footsteps of his white leaders, just as this young man has done by enlisting himself in the army. It is through white, culturally supported institutions, such as the U.S. Army, that black men can make a contribution to society in a way that will not be in vain.
Locke highlights another social dichotomy that largely led black men to embrace modes of whiteness. “Enter the New Negro” establishes that “the intelligent negro of today is resolved not to make discrimination an extenuation for his shortcomings in performance, individual or collective; he is trying to hold himself at par…” (Locke, 3). In moving forward, beyond time-old grudges of racism and oppression, black men were again given the opportunity to advance themselves based on lifestyle choices that reflected the tastes of white American culture of the time. Van der zee’s “Family portrait with children at piano,” portrays a black family in a fancy living room setting. Recalling from Peiss’ discussion about cosmetics, it is interesting to note that all four of the family members, notably the two baby boys, have straight, parted hair. The father stands in a three piece suit watching fondly as his young sons sit at the piano. Not only have the mother and father conformed to “white” modes of fashion and lifestyle themeselves, but the portrait suggests that they have also dedicated their lives to raising their sons in that said fashion.
As historical writers such as Kathy Peiss, and photographers such as James Van Der Zee have documented, many African Americans’ chosen modes of Americanization tended to mimic that of a white lifestyle at the beginning of the twentieth century. Becoming more “white” was a cultural decision embraced by many African Americans, that has a social agenda, more profound and more noble than what may be initially evident. For those who questioned the allegiance of black citizens embracing whiteness at the turn of the century, Locke aptly explains, “we realize that we cannot be undone without America’s undoing” (5). Becoming more “white” was not so much of an oppressive compromise as it was a sound cultural claim that black people could look, act and function just as white Americans did.
Ultimately, in the midst of relocating themselves in the socio-economic realm, up against years of demeaning significations and racial oppression, the African American community countered previously established ideologies through white physical appearance and patterns of consumption.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Paper #1 Argument
The presidential inauguration allowed for the consumption of food and drink to be mythicized, following Barthes’ notion of inoculation. The consumption of food and drink as a ritual is a comparatively fleeting experience in the realm of of the inauguration itself. However, judging by the amount of food and drink that was consumed throughout inauguration, we can say that not too many people resisted to the idea. Food became part of the culture, part of the experience and inoculation from any counter-logic allowed for the masses to justify out of the ordinary spending habits and commemorative purchases in way that was largely unquestioned.
Examples:
1.) PEPSI PRODUCTS: The Pepsi company has so obviously manipulated their logo to look like that of the Obama campaign (the “faux-bama” logo). Also, the company has gone so far as to put the Obama campaign slogans and put them on pins, replacing all of the “o’s” with their "faux-bama" logo. If you couldn't read, you'd probably think that the can was made by Obama himself.
2.) FIXED PRICE MENUS: $44 dollar three course menus and $44 bottles of wine in honor of our 44th president. In this instance, the swipe of a credit card is the end of your patriotic experience.
Examples:
1.) PEPSI PRODUCTS: The Pepsi company has so obviously manipulated their logo to look like that of the Obama campaign (the “faux-bama” logo). Also, the company has gone so far as to put the Obama campaign slogans and put them on pins, replacing all of the “o’s” with their "faux-bama" logo. If you couldn't read, you'd probably think that the can was made by Obama himself.
2.) FIXED PRICE MENUS: $44 dollar three course menus and $44 bottles of wine in honor of our 44th president. In this instance, the swipe of a credit card is the end of your patriotic experience.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Jen Gilmour on Al Jazeera
I had the honor of being asked by the Al Jazeera Washington Bureau to document my inauguration day in the form of a video diary. They provided the camera and I provided the footage. I had to return the camera and they edited it down (a lot) and put it on youtube. The following is the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny_DnAjLJ1c&feature=channel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Inaugural Food and Drink
To all of you who bought food at the presidential inauguration ceremonies...maybe you can find some solace in this blog posting. No, you’re definitely not the only one who forgot to bring money to the cash-only bar, and hey, don’t sweat it, that family of five standing in front of you in line was ALSO forced to buy $7 hot dogs, just like you, since THERE WAS NO OTHER FOOD OPTION ON THE MALL. Ahem.
Then, of course, there were the Pepsi vendors. Lucky for them, their red, white and blue circular logo just happened to look strikingly similar to that of the Obama campaign- and mind you, they shamelessly promoted it that way. Nowadays Pepsi cans are a solid blue with a single, popping "faux-bama" logo- leading your average Joe to actually believe that he is to some extent investing in a piece of history, or at least showing his patriotism, every time he buys a pepsi can. But then again, maybe $3 for a pepsi can SHOULD allow you to feel that way….
If that wasn’t enough, here, have a handful of tiny Pepsi pins. No, really, they’re free, have them. They read with things like “HOPE” and “JOY”, both words having the O’s replaced, again, with the faux-bama symbol. My favorite was the pin that read, “YES YOU CAN.” Again, we have replaced the “O” in “YOU” and we have the oh so clever play on words with the double-meaning of “CAN.” That is, “You CAN better yourself with a democratic vote” or “you CAN enjoy this historic occasion with a historic pepsi drink.” Keep in mind, folks, I too drank a pepsi, and I too have a handful of tiny pins still in my coat pocket. I bought into it too- I just hate myself for it.
So while I, and literally millions of others were eating such nutritious and delicious fare on the mall, let’s take a look at what Obama and his esteemed guests were feasting on.
The inauguration lunch menu provided by the Inaugural Committee was as follows: A first course of seafood stew, a second course which consisted of an assortment of American birds (pheasant and duck) served with sour cherry chutney and molasses sweet potatoes, and finally a third course of cinnamon sponge cake and sweet cream glace.
According to Dianne Feinstein, Chairman of the Inaugural Committee, the “Luncheon” tab was the most-visited part of the inauguration’s website. In fact, that was how she introduced the meal. It was as if to say, “what you’re about to eat, ladies and gentlemen, has people drooling across our fine nation- so enjoy it.”
I could probably find enough research to go on forever about the similarities between the menus of Obama and Lincoln, however I would like to think that what was more significant about this occasion were the menus and Obama specials that our new President did not get to try, or even knew existed for that matter.
Tim Carman of the Washington City Paper put it well, saying, “ in one way or another, many of the areas restaurants are plundering Obama’s background, or his place in history, for inauguration day promotions.”
One restaurant promotion which I found particularly smug was a large smattering of restaurants who were offering $44 three course meals to go along with a $44 bottle of wine to honor our nation’s 44th president. Ridiculous. Don’t trick me into being patriotic, thank you. I bought a $10 bottle of wine yesterday and not only was it delicious, but I am also still just as much of an American for having drank it.
If we follow this equation, my calculations tell me that in my lifetime (well say it’s about 80 years (from drinking all that cheap wine, naturally)) then it is conceivable that I could be paying $54 dollars for a meal in celebration of our 54th president. Can’t wait!
I personally took a more affordable approach on the day of inauguration and I took part in a $20 flat rate, all-day celebration at Bohemian Caverns on U Street. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Bohemian Caverns is “the sole home of soul jazz” according to their website. What drew me to their celebration was not the electronica Gospel DJ at DC 9 or the “Barack Bock” at the District Chophouse and Brewery, but it was Bohemian Cavern’s $4 forty ounces of malt liquor special.
I had previously known this establishment to be one of those reserved, candles on the tables, cuddling-couples-places where you go to enjoy soft jazz and sip on that wine ever so slowly. However last night they were offering malt liquor, balloon animals, baked goods and grilled food items. All this, in lights of our first black president- am I the only one who thinks this to be racist or somehow misinformed? Why was this bar, given its usual, more reserved reputation, making this their special on inauguration night? Who was going to be there and why?
I know that I could be treading on thin ice here and I hope that I am not making something out of nothing, but I thought it was cheap. People were loud, drunk, and predominantly white, in fact strikingly so. I’m just not so sure that Obama would like to see his nation’s white youth celebrating his inauguration with forties in hand. This is supposed the “home of soul”, right? Was this the right way to go about celebrating inauguration....well, I'm just not so sure.
Here are a few pictures that I would like to share from last night:
Obama Cupcake!
They were free and plenty...
This is entitled, "A Sociologist's Field Day"
Notice the banner from their proud sponsors, the racial composition of the crowd, and of course, the balloon animal hats.
Then, of course, there were the Pepsi vendors. Lucky for them, their red, white and blue circular logo just happened to look strikingly similar to that of the Obama campaign- and mind you, they shamelessly promoted it that way. Nowadays Pepsi cans are a solid blue with a single, popping "faux-bama" logo- leading your average Joe to actually believe that he is to some extent investing in a piece of history, or at least showing his patriotism, every time he buys a pepsi can. But then again, maybe $3 for a pepsi can SHOULD allow you to feel that way….
If that wasn’t enough, here, have a handful of tiny Pepsi pins. No, really, they’re free, have them. They read with things like “HOPE” and “JOY”, both words having the O’s replaced, again, with the faux-bama symbol. My favorite was the pin that read, “YES YOU CAN.” Again, we have replaced the “O” in “YOU” and we have the oh so clever play on words with the double-meaning of “CAN.” That is, “You CAN better yourself with a democratic vote” or “you CAN enjoy this historic occasion with a historic pepsi drink.” Keep in mind, folks, I too drank a pepsi, and I too have a handful of tiny pins still in my coat pocket. I bought into it too- I just hate myself for it.
So while I, and literally millions of others were eating such nutritious and delicious fare on the mall, let’s take a look at what Obama and his esteemed guests were feasting on.
The inauguration lunch menu provided by the Inaugural Committee was as follows: A first course of seafood stew, a second course which consisted of an assortment of American birds (pheasant and duck) served with sour cherry chutney and molasses sweet potatoes, and finally a third course of cinnamon sponge cake and sweet cream glace.
According to Dianne Feinstein, Chairman of the Inaugural Committee, the “Luncheon” tab was the most-visited part of the inauguration’s website. In fact, that was how she introduced the meal. It was as if to say, “what you’re about to eat, ladies and gentlemen, has people drooling across our fine nation- so enjoy it.”
I could probably find enough research to go on forever about the similarities between the menus of Obama and Lincoln, however I would like to think that what was more significant about this occasion were the menus and Obama specials that our new President did not get to try, or even knew existed for that matter.
Tim Carman of the Washington City Paper put it well, saying, “ in one way or another, many of the areas restaurants are plundering Obama’s background, or his place in history, for inauguration day promotions.”
One restaurant promotion which I found particularly smug was a large smattering of restaurants who were offering $44 three course meals to go along with a $44 bottle of wine to honor our nation’s 44th president. Ridiculous. Don’t trick me into being patriotic, thank you. I bought a $10 bottle of wine yesterday and not only was it delicious, but I am also still just as much of an American for having drank it.
If we follow this equation, my calculations tell me that in my lifetime (well say it’s about 80 years (from drinking all that cheap wine, naturally)) then it is conceivable that I could be paying $54 dollars for a meal in celebration of our 54th president. Can’t wait!
I personally took a more affordable approach on the day of inauguration and I took part in a $20 flat rate, all-day celebration at Bohemian Caverns on U Street. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Bohemian Caverns is “the sole home of soul jazz” according to their website. What drew me to their celebration was not the electronica Gospel DJ at DC 9 or the “Barack Bock” at the District Chophouse and Brewery, but it was Bohemian Cavern’s $4 forty ounces of malt liquor special.
I had previously known this establishment to be one of those reserved, candles on the tables, cuddling-couples-places where you go to enjoy soft jazz and sip on that wine ever so slowly. However last night they were offering malt liquor, balloon animals, baked goods and grilled food items. All this, in lights of our first black president- am I the only one who thinks this to be racist or somehow misinformed? Why was this bar, given its usual, more reserved reputation, making this their special on inauguration night? Who was going to be there and why?
I know that I could be treading on thin ice here and I hope that I am not making something out of nothing, but I thought it was cheap. People were loud, drunk, and predominantly white, in fact strikingly so. I’m just not so sure that Obama would like to see his nation’s white youth celebrating his inauguration with forties in hand. This is supposed the “home of soul”, right? Was this the right way to go about celebrating inauguration....well, I'm just not so sure.
Here are a few pictures that I would like to share from last night:
Obama Cupcake!They were free and plenty...
This is entitled, "A Sociologist's Field Day"Notice the banner from their proud sponsors, the racial composition of the crowd, and of course, the balloon animal hats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)