Round Robin

In Totems without Taboos:The Exquisite Corpse, Paul D. Miller discusses the need for us to respect the flow of information from different places, perspectives and cultures. In our own version of the exquisite corpse, we too had to practice this respect for each phase of the story. Each night there would be a new edition to our story and we no longer held the control to change or develop it.  In that sense, nothing was really our own. Everything was sort of an homage. Each artist was trying to express their independence in creativity, while simultaneously bending their personal pursuits to align with the previous artist. This process resulted in a final product that reflected the different perspectives and ideas of each contributor.

As to how each individual story turned out, we can all relate to Adam’s comment on his final compilation:  “In terms of my own story's exquisite corpse, I think there was a slight creative disconnect.”  Keith’s comment may explain a little bit as to why there was a creative disconnect: “As for me, I was limited by time and my inability to draw, but my contribution meant something different for the masterpiece.” Different styles of art led to different interpretations.  As one of the great philosophers has said, “Anything you put in front of the human eye man will draw a conclusion from;” once the artist has released his work, it belongs to the general public for interpretation.  Thus the theme of each of the stories were different based on the translation of the previous artist. 

The exquisite corpse can be compared to the cartoon, Adventure Time, in the fact that all parts/episodes have their own beginning, middle, and end.  Yet they do not necessarily have to be viewed in order. Similarly, each story in the creative corpse does not necessarily communicate the same theme. The collaborative process and the mixing of form and content, narrative and theme, individual story and series is beautiful in and of itself.  It shows how similar yet different man may be.

As aspiring filmmakers, it is important to realize the auteur approach is not necessarily the best way to go. Making a film is a big deal and there's no way one person will generate the kind of depth that makes for good stories. Miller talks about the sheer volume of information available to people today, which allows for infinitely more connections than ever before. Letting go of pride and ownership allows us to enjoy the endless buffet of experience coming from all sides and contribute our own bits. The writer may win the Oscar, but that award is due in part to the 13 year old girl on Pinterest and the source from which she pinned. No matter how successful we may be, we can never take full credit. Our part may merely constitute the feet.

The Round Robin Story

#1) When Fuzzy Penguin floated though class in a hot air balloon, his classmates thought he was a rather odd duck.

By Adam Hardy

 

#2) But Fuzzy Penguin who was a duck didn't care. So he floated on until his balloon popped. Then he dropped.

By Tom Hartvigsen

 

#3) Fuzzy Penguin fell for a long time, though he rather enjoyed it. He did not enjoy hitting the ocean though.

By Weber Griffiths

 

#4) The sea enjoys its meal when it gets one.

By Keith Grover

 

#5) "What would you like... cookies, pies, or cakes?"
"JUST SALT PLEASE."

By Hannah Hansen

#6) SCANDAL REVEALED: Homofarm Zoo's forced closure leaves man-eaters without food. PETA says, "Inhumane!"

By Adam Hardy

This last addition was a bit of a mistake, as I didn't realize the last installment was the final one. I found it remarkable that I no longer recognized the story from where it had began. The changes become more drastic as the development is merely inspired by the previous chapter and doesn't necessarily represent a narrative.

Music Mosaic

Thoreau had his Waldon. Annie Dillard had her Tinker Creek. And I? Well, I have the mountains. In an excerpt from her book, Dillard emphasizes the idea of seeing—a capacity to notice and understand the unnoticed things, thus drawing meaningful conclusions about life. In preparing this creative project, I thought I understood how to see. I listened to Sam Cardon’s Zion at Twilight a hundred times, picking out the themes and moods, the rhythms and phrases. I assembled what I thought was a brilliant concept—a representative painting in the snow, each part signifying a different aspect of the music, etched on a canvas symbolic of the transience and power of wonder. And then, having finished my work, fingers covered in paint, I walk.

Camera in hand, I trudge up Rock Canyon. Wonder strikes me, and all at once the music is something I feel rather than hear. The echoing bells and chants are the fog drifting down the cliffs, the blowing rain and snow in my face. Jagged peaks emerge from the clouds as the music builds. As I climb higher and higher, I discover the paths of the mountain goats marked out by scattered pellets. I see green grass, a hallmark of seasons lost, still hanging onto life. I find up there a flowing melody of life that thrives in this majestic and unforgiving landscape. It's a gritty kind of beauty. Up and up. Now I am soaking wet, but I can't stop. The music builds and grows and I can't help but follow. I claw my way up cliff faces and scree fields. The music energizes my limbs and I feel no cold. I hear a trickle of water above me and see more and more evidences of tenacious life. The water is clear and pure; its music has a zen-like quality. I've stumbled on a kind of oasis up here. The cliffs loom above me and try as I might, I cannot ascend the cataract to find the source of this stream. The notes build and the mountains stand, majestic and proud, the sentinels and guardians of the wild to which I am but a visitor. I am humbled and stilled. No higher.

I skip and slide my way down the mountain to the trailhead, full of words and music, the echoing chimes still faintly ringing in my ears. Someone’s forgotten banana is smiling at me from the pavement. At that moment it hits me exactly what Sam Cardon is doing with his music and exactly why I had it all wrong. Art is not a manipulation or fabrication of meaningful reality. It's a way of communicating the divine—the kind of divinity that takes special eyes to see. Zion at Twilight is an experience you absorb, not a song you get stuck in your head. It describes a meek communication with elements that far transcend our puny existence. Perhaps this is what Ansel Adams understood in the creation of his photos. There isn't a great deal of moralizing or even interpretation. He simply shows the divinity already present, the same kind of divinity Sam Cardon captures. To think that I can convey, with a few measly strokes of color, the kind of depth and meaning I have just experienced is pretension of the worst sort. I place the banana in my snow-painting and leave it all to rot, perfected.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WTLSPmI7IGQ

Thinking and Writing

 Is Our Activism Getting Us What We Want?

Regarding The Jungle, young Upton Sinclair (1878-1968) said, “I aimed for the public’s heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach.” Despite its stark realism designed to produce sympathy for the working man, the novel disgusted its audience, who became more concerned about their food than about the degradation of the poor. Sinclair’s intended sweeping change in the workforce wasn’t really accomplished until FDR’s New Deal. This seems to be a pattern in history for widespread social change––it rarely works the way we would like it to. The context and consequence of The Jungle reminds us that as exciting as activism is, we should be wary of expecting instant and easy solutions to complex social issues.

The Jungle is best described as Socialist propaganda––a piece designed to shed grim light on the horrible treatment of the working man in the early 20th century. It describes the tragic story of Jurgis Rudkis, a Lithuanian man who, with a head full of “the American Dream,” experiences almost total debasement. The “dream,” as it turns out, is nothing more than a ploy used by Oligarchic systems to enslave hopeful immigrants. Sinclair spares none in his description of graft, greed, and hopelessness that plagued the period. When Jurgis’ life is at its most bitter low, he attends a socialist meeting. The clouds open up, the heavenly choirs begin singing, and God himself might as well be introducing the “pure” and “perfect” solution to all society’s problems. Says the narrator, “It was the new religion of humanity––or you might say it was the fulfilment of the old religion, since it implied but the literal application of all the teachings of Christ.” Such hope contrasted by 330 pages of utter despair is enough to activate even the most sluggish of pessimists. But is our activism working?

The Arab Spring, 2010. Twenty countries successively revolt against their governments. Boom, boom, boom. Firecracker-style. Six years later, several of them are still in crisis mode, and a couple are in an all-out war. Furthermore, there’s the up-and-coming extremist group, ISIS, which is hell-bent on asserting dominance not just in the middle east, but in the world. At what point to the flames of revolution become an uncontrollable inferno? And how “fixed” have those countries become?

With the advent of social media in this information age, social reform occurs at a rate and to a scale unimaginable by those in Sinclair’s time. What will be the costs to society of homosexuality, abortion, feminism, legalization of drugs, minimum wage hikes, gun control increased spending in social programs, and other hot topics on today’s polls? What will be the costs of keeping the status quo? Social media’s compact sensationalism is delivered to our inboxes at an alarming rate. With things moving so quickly, are we adequately reasoning through information before drawing conclusions? We are quick to click “like” or “share,” to swipe right or swipe left, to make snap judgements and rash conclusions. We know more about what is going on in the world and less about why it is going on.

The Jungle points clearly at a well defined corruption structure of the time: the Beef Trust. The slave-laborers of the trust were well informed about its graft and political involvement, having been part of it first hand. With the help of organized grassroots movements and Sinclair’s novel, Roosevelt was pushed to break the trusts. But today, corruption is a many headed beast with no real focal point. Our information is delivered to us second or third or fourth hand. It can be hard to trust the media delivered to us and even harder to trust corrupt institutions. Despite widespread litigation to curb corporate corruption, it continues to be a major force. DuPont, for example, a chemical company in the Northeast, continues to face litigation for decades of pollution, dishonest practices, and shameful cover-ups. We’ve come a long way since Sinclair’s time, but we’ve a long way yet to go. This single book did not, indeed, cannot lead to the complete reform of the problems it describes, however influential it was at the time.

That’s not to say that activism and revolution is a fruitless and wasteful endeavor. It would be a gross understatement to say that activism is important in shaping history. But perhaps we would do well to slow down a little, to examine our outcomes, and to embrace the responsibility of what comes next. Though Jurgis Rudkis is saved from his miserable life by socialism, Sinclair himself resigned from the party when the execution of its ideals were not carried out satisfactorily. And truthfully, ideals will always be just that:ideals. The Jungle’s presentation of socialism is in form exactly the same as the World Socialist Movement today, over a century later. These ideals have never been successful in practice and likely will never be, given the track record of Nazis, Communists, and extremists riding the waves of social change. Such change is important and necessary in an ever evolving world, and we should take part in it in an educated, calculated, and cautious way. There is no single blanket solution. Our efforts may hit the wrong areas. And like Occupy Wall Street, our activities may do little more than bring an issue to the tables of debate. But if we are wise and patient, we won’t face any derailing surprises.