Here are a list of great podcasts, to which you should be listening:
[Please listen to the lecture entitled “Realizing Human Rights: Access to HIV/AIDS Medication and the Role of Civil Society in South Africa”] [Though the future of Catalogue of Ships is less clear now that Terry and Kraskin are taking things in another direction, the stories are well told and remixed. Go back and listen to what you've been missing. Very entertaining.][Among others, listen to the podcast entitled "A Brief History of Neoliberalism"]
[It doesn't seem like they come out with a new podcast often, but it is interesting when they do.]
[Terribly important. The podcast from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum brings you everything from talks with Elie Wiesel to updates on Darfur. Listen to the episode on "Memory and Witness."]
5.28.2006
5.24.2006
theology | Pictures of Disability
People often ask what it looks like to live and work with those with developmental disabilities.
Sometimes it is two friends hanging out on the beach.
More about L'Arche, see: A PBS story on Jean Vanier.
Sometimes it is two friends hanging out on the beach.
More about L'Arche, see: A PBS story on Jean Vanier.
5.22.2006
theology | Learning to Listen
[Since I'm currently away from my desk, here's a piece I wrote for the forthcoming L'Arche Greater Washington D.C. Newsletter. You get to read it before it gets mailed to our friends/supporters.]
I like Washington, D.C., but then again, I like city life. I like the constant activity and opportunities that a city offers; I like when population density forces many cultures, backgrounds, and languages to mingle. The paradox of the city, of course, is that one is constantly bombarded by body after body and yet most people go unnoticed and unheard. When considered as a whole, the size of a city can be humbling, intimidating, and even cold. It is perhaps easy to forget that a city is nothing more than a single person, multiplied, and that every person has a story; every person has a song.
At the end of April, I took a road trip down to the mountains of North Carolina to attend Merlefest, one of the premier bluegrass festivals in the United States, designed for both “pickers” and fans alike. So, on the way to a concert stage, I frequently passed someone carrying a banjo or guitar case. The audience seemed to have been culled from the small towns and rural areas of western North Carolina. There were a lot of beards, a lot of families, and a genuine love of music. One of the virtues of bluegrass is that it doesn’t lend itself to ostentation or pretension, or more colloquially, it isn’t all that uppity. It can be difficult to distinguish a common fan from the world’s best mandolin player, a scholar of bluegrass, or gifted amateur musician. Since a glance can never ascertain the music that dwells within someone, learning a person’s song, like learning any piece of music, requires time, a listening ear, and a willingness to be surprised.
One need not embark on a road trip to practice this skill. Back at L’Arche Greater Washington D.C., I share a home with a wonderful woman named Debora, one of our core members. Debora is a middle aged elegant woman of few words. One might initially take this quietness as disengagement from the world. But, with time, a listening ear, and a willingness to have one’s expectations overturned, her cleverness, perceptiveness and quick wit shine through. One of the joys of being an assistant in L’Arche is being surprised by the gifts of our core members. Not long after my arrival at L’Arche another assistant was talking with Debora when the entire 23rd Psalm poured forth from her usually taciturn lips.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that Debora had memorized an entire psalm, since I was already impressed with her knowledge of lyrics to popular music. Not long ago, several of us in our house were watching the recently released film about Johnny Cash entitled Walk the Line. During one scene where Johnny Cash was on stage, Debora sang every verse word for word. Amazed, I thought to myself, “I knew she liked the Beatles, but she also knows “The Man in Black.” When my parents visited in late March, my mother learned that if she were playing the piano in our living room, she would be sharing the piano bench with Debora. Debora recognized and sang every word to every hymn my mother knew to play.
Debora, a woman of few words? Well, not exactly—that is, not if one is willing to be surprised and takes the time to listen to the songs she has to sing. Everyone has a story; everyone has a song.
I like Washington, D.C., but then again, I like city life. I like the constant activity and opportunities that a city offers; I like when population density forces many cultures, backgrounds, and languages to mingle. The paradox of the city, of course, is that one is constantly bombarded by body after body and yet most people go unnoticed and unheard. When considered as a whole, the size of a city can be humbling, intimidating, and even cold. It is perhaps easy to forget that a city is nothing more than a single person, multiplied, and that every person has a story; every person has a song.
At the end of April, I took a road trip down to the mountains of North Carolina to attend Merlefest, one of the premier bluegrass festivals in the United States, designed for both “pickers” and fans alike. So, on the way to a concert stage, I frequently passed someone carrying a banjo or guitar case. The audience seemed to have been culled from the small towns and rural areas of western North Carolina. There were a lot of beards, a lot of families, and a genuine love of music. One of the virtues of bluegrass is that it doesn’t lend itself to ostentation or pretension, or more colloquially, it isn’t all that uppity. It can be difficult to distinguish a common fan from the world’s best mandolin player, a scholar of bluegrass, or gifted amateur musician. Since a glance can never ascertain the music that dwells within someone, learning a person’s song, like learning any piece of music, requires time, a listening ear, and a willingness to be surprised.
One need not embark on a road trip to practice this skill. Back at L’Arche Greater Washington D.C., I share a home with a wonderful woman named Debora, one of our core members. Debora is a middle aged elegant woman of few words. One might initially take this quietness as disengagement from the world. But, with time, a listening ear, and a willingness to have one’s expectations overturned, her cleverness, perceptiveness and quick wit shine through. One of the joys of being an assistant in L’Arche is being surprised by the gifts of our core members. Not long after my arrival at L’Arche another assistant was talking with Debora when the entire 23rd Psalm poured forth from her usually taciturn lips.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that Debora had memorized an entire psalm, since I was already impressed with her knowledge of lyrics to popular music. Not long ago, several of us in our house were watching the recently released film about Johnny Cash entitled Walk the Line. During one scene where Johnny Cash was on stage, Debora sang every verse word for word. Amazed, I thought to myself, “I knew she liked the Beatles, but she also knows “The Man in Black.” When my parents visited in late March, my mother learned that if she were playing the piano in our living room, she would be sharing the piano bench with Debora. Debora recognized and sang every word to every hymn my mother knew to play.
(A.Y.T. at left, Debora center -- random gathering around the piano)
Debora, a woman of few words? Well, not exactly—that is, not if one is willing to be surprised and takes the time to listen to the songs she has to sing. Everyone has a story; everyone has a song.
5.20.2006
life | AYT takes Miami
AYT is falling behind on his travel posts. For example, he has yet to write about his weekend in the mountains of North Carolina, or a previous retreat in the woods of Virginia, and now he is off to Miami Beach for the week. AYT will probably not be posting for the next week, but when he returns, he'll have a story which will bring together several disparate worlds of America's Young Theologian (much like this post).
If you are just joining AYT or are eagerly awaiting AYT's blogging return, you will want to revisit the following posts to pick up the narrative threads which will shortly be woven together:
life | Days in the Barcelona Sun -- Part I
theology | Count Your Pennies
5.19.2006
life | Jaroslav Pelikan (1923-2006)
Jaroslav Jan Pelikan, a Yale scholar and historian of religion who interpreted Christian tenets to a vast lay audience in the English-speaking world, died on Saturday at his home in Hamden, Conn. He was 82.
Read NYTimes Obituary...
5.16.2006
music | Currently Listening To...
...the new albums from Calexico, which I like much better than previous albums for losing the mariachi sound even if it makes them slightly more pedestrian, Mogwai, which at first listen sounded like music that I might listen to while studying, and Snow Patrol, which gets the award for the band which sounds like adult-contemporary radio play, but is somehow likable.
Strange Snow Patrol moments:
1) 1:40 into "Hands Open," the lyrics "...put Sufjan Stevens on/we'll play your favorite song..."
2) The song "Chasing Cars" comes on while watching the Grey’s Anatomy Season Finale.
Strange Snow Patrol moments:
1) 1:40 into "Hands Open," the lyrics "...put Sufjan Stevens on/we'll play your favorite song..."
2) The song "Chasing Cars" comes on while watching the Grey’s Anatomy Season Finale.
5.14.2006
art | More on Dada, or A Theological Response to Pat Robertson
Since this follows my previous post entitled, "Dada, Eisenhower, and Exasperation with War," one cannot understand this without reading that post.
misc | A Culinary Confession
How America's Young Theologian continually gives 110%, or, "I'll have what he's having!":
You may know A.Y.T. to cook well, eat well, and drink well, but that's only part of the story. Here is my culinary confession: The following is one of my favorite sandwiches!
The Meatloaf Sandwich
Start with toast (mayo optional). Add cheddar cheese, dill pickle slices, and thinly sliced leftover meatloaf. Top with A1 sauce.
5.10.2006
article | After the "End of History"
"But there is a fundamental issue that separates us. It is the question of whether the values and institutions developed during the western Enlightenment are potentially universal (as Hegel and Marx thought), or bounded within a cultural horizon (consistent with the views of later philosophers like Friedrich Nietzsche and Martin Heidegger). Huntington clearly believes that they are not universal. He argues that the kind of political institutions with which we in the west are familiar are the by-product of a certain kind of western European Christian culture, and will never take root beyond the boundaries of that culture.Read entire article...
So the central question to answer is whether western values and institutions have a universal significance, or whether they represent the temporary success of a presently hegemonic culture."
5.08.2006
misc | The Da Vinci Code
Some people think The Da Vinci Code is worth talking about. I don't, so I let other people do the talking for me. If you want to hear two biblical scholars, my former professor at Duke, Richard Hays, and UNC professor Bart Ehrman discuss some of the issues raised by The Da Vinci Code, download the mp3 here.It's more about some of the complicated issues raised by the book, rather than the book itself. You'll learn more from this than you could hope to learn from the book.
misc | In Case You Want A Sooners Tattoo...
Gov. Brad Henry is expected to sign legislation this week that eliminates Oklahoma's distinction as the only state in the nation to prohibit tattooing and establishes a regulatory system for tattoo artists and parlors.
5.06.2006
art | Dada, Eisenhower, and Exasperation with War
With the dada exhibit in town for another week, this long overdue post continues to detail AYT's interactions with art. Here, AYT returns to the nation's capital and reflects on the absurdity of war with a much needed reminder from Dada, the artistic "protest against the barbarism of World War I, the bourgeois interests that Dada adherents believed inspired the war, and what they believed was an oppressive intellectual rigidity in both art and everyday society." [1]
Note: The exhibit at the NGA runs through May 14th, and then moves to NYC.
Why is dada important? Many reasons. First, artistically...
Here's the scenario: The Great War is over, but your continent has been crippled by four years of conflict. Soldiers dead number nine million (currently, the entire population of New York City), not to mention many more civilians dead either through starvation or genocide. If you're George Grosz, you were in the German army for two years. If you are Hans Arp, in 1915 you moved to Switzerland, to take advantage of Swiss neutrality. If you are Erwin Blumenfeld, you were barely 20, when you were drafted into the Kaiser's army as an ambulance driver, or "a corpse carrier," as you would put it in later in your autobiography. As Max Ernst, you would have served in the German army. Pick your artist since no one was unaffected by the war. So, a continent lays in ruin, your life has been changed as well, and someone hands you a canvas. I put it thus because these artists might very well understand those who are exasperated by our current war in Iraq. Dadaists know war and its absurdity. So, perhaps we might also look to dada for answers to the question: how does one respond to the absurdity of war? Too often people feel alone with this emotion, this exasperation, since it doesn't seem like anything will change. Perhaps anti-war marches help people cope personally by showing that certain convictions are shared, but still the question of what to do is met with a sense of national collective helplessness.
A reminder which the dadaist did not need, but perhaps we should pause to remind ourselves is that war is not good. Some will say that war is at times necessary, but few if any would consider war itself a social good. It would be a hopeful scenario if war could go through the same imaginative and social transformation that slavery underwent in this country over the last century. Sure slavery still exists in the world, but few consider it a viable or compelling option. War has yet to assume a similar level of social stigmatism.
A couple months ago I watched Why We Fight, the film by Eugene Jarecki which won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. The film looks at the anatomy of the American war machine, weaving personal stories with commentary by military and beltway insiders. The film moves beyond the headlines of various American military operations to the deeper questions of why – why does America fight? What are the forces – political, economic, ideological – that drive us to fight against an ever-changing enemy? The movie takes its beginning from Dwight D. Eisenhower's farewell address, where Eisenhower wisely said:
Dada was a revolt against a world in which the Great War could happen. Tristan Tzara, the essayist of what is now considered a movement, said, "The beginnings of dada were not the beginnings of an art, but of a disgust." Tzara's friend and important dadaist artist, Marcel Janco, recalled, "We had lost confidence in our culture. Everything had to be demolished. We would begin again after the 'tabula rasa.' At the Cabaret Voltaire we began by shocking common sense, public opinion, education, institutions, museums, good taste, in short, the whole prevailing order." Dada did not want to be a movement and resisted definition long before Derrida would similarly say about deconstruction, "I have no simple and formalizable response to this question [of what deconstruction is]. All my essays are attempts to have it out with this formidable question." I mention Derrida (or even before we could mention Martin Heidegger) because I take the limits of dada's power to be the same as the limits of deconstruction. Said differently, as much as dada attempts to critique society, it is at the same time part of society. This is, of course, the irony of dada: it intended to set itself against traditional art, but instead became the touchstone for much of twentieth century art. So, when asking how dada might help us today, one could argue that because dada did not, in fact could not, achieve its own ideal, it then must have little to teach. Yet, sometimes the attempt to destroy a ship by throwing oneself at the ships wheel, does not in the end destroy it but does change its direction and in so doing provides waypoints for those who follow.
One powerful aspect of dada and one of Eisenhower's virtues when it comes to thinking about war was to rigorously portray the human cost. The painting above and print below stop all militaristic fanfare.
Grosz's Gray Day points to a lack of connection between a governmental bureaucracy charged to care for her people and the suffering of her people (and especially those who suffered for her sake). Dada's political bite might spur a young photographer to do an exhibit of photographs of VA hospitals. How do we treat those we've asked (or bribed) to put their life on the line? Does it match the sexy "Army of One" message which you and I pay to be televised? The Hero confronts us with the grim realities of war from which we remain partially insulated. Embedded journalists are shown the story they are allowed to tell and worse, there is still a shroud around the war dead even if there are now holes through which to peek. These grim realities are things we need constantly before us since the war is supposedly being fought 'for us and our salvation.'
During his presidency, Eisenhower too thought of military costs in human terms. He regularly thought of military expenditures as a choice to be made between, say, a bomber and new schools. Today that would look like asking, do we want one more Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit bomber at $1.157 billion, or 23 more top of the line high schools in the US? Or answering the question of whether we'd prefer the $244 billion spent on the development of the Joint Strike Fighter through 2004 to be sent out to 8 million Americans in the form of $30,000 checks (or, we might choose 100 new $50M schools in each and every state in the US). The reason why framing these questions as choices is important is that they are in fact choices. Framing the questions in terms of 'what do we need to be safe' entails two problematic presumptions. First, that safety (as opposed to relative safety) is achievable, and, second, that our desire for safety does not compete with other of our concerns. When we fail to frame military expendatures as a choice between funding competing desires, it is like walking into a car dealership and asking for all the options which one needs to be comfortable. One walks away with an exceedingly high pricetag, finding oneself impoverished in the areas not considered by the question.
Lastly, we can all learn wisdom and storytelling from those dada artists who practiced photomontage.
Practical wisdom (phronesis) is nothing more than the application of good judgment to human conduct. The virtue of practical wisdom has a lot to do with being able to connect different experiential data as one looks into the who, what, where, when, why of a situation and asks how one is to act, in what manner, to what degree, and in what time. These connections are precisely the kind of connections which photomontage teaches us to make. Likewise, storytelling takes disparate details, events, characters, and messages and weaves them into a unified whole. Drawing on narrative conventions, roles, and textures, the storyteller creates a story which makes these connections for her audience. Thus, photomontage serves as an artistic instruction in how to tell a compelling story, or one might say, an education in practical wisdom. We may want to remember what Walter Benjamin wrote in his great essay "The Storyteller:"
L.H.O.O.Q.
==========
[1] Wikipedia contributors, "Dada," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Dada&oldid=44541020 (accessed March 21, 2006).
[2] From the publisher of the hardcover companion to the Dada exhibit, entitled, Dada: Zurich, Berlin, Hanover, Cologne, New York, New York, Paris (ISBN: 1933045205).
[3] For text or sound recording of Eisenhower's farewell address, see: http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/dwightdeisenhowerfarewell.html
[4] See: Dillon, George L. 1944- "Dada Photomontage and net.art Sitemaps"
Postmodern Culture - Volume 10, Number 2, January 2000, The Johns Hopkins University Press.
Note: The exhibit at the NGA runs through May 14th, and then moves to NYC.
+ + +
Why is dada important? Many reasons. First, artistically...
...[a]long with Russian constructivism and surrealism, Dada stands as one of the three most significant movements of the historical avant-garde. Born in the heart of Europe in the midst of World War I, Dada displayed a raucous skepticism about accepted values. Its embrace of new materials, of collage and assemblage techniques, of the designation of manufactured objects as art objects as well as its interest in performance, sound poetry, and manifestos fundamentally shaped the terms of modern art practice and created an abiding legacy for postwar art. Yet, while the word Dada has common currency, few know much about Dada art itself. In contrast to other key avant-garde movements, there has never been a major American exhibition that explores Dada specifically in broad view. [2]Historically, dada is important if one wants to understand, for example, surrealism and its development, or to answer questions about what it means to be a modernist artist. There are, however, other reasons why we might want to look again (or for the first time) at dada.
Here's the scenario: The Great War is over, but your continent has been crippled by four years of conflict. Soldiers dead number nine million (currently, the entire population of New York City), not to mention many more civilians dead either through starvation or genocide. If you're George Grosz, you were in the German army for two years. If you are Hans Arp, in 1915 you moved to Switzerland, to take advantage of Swiss neutrality. If you are Erwin Blumenfeld, you were barely 20, when you were drafted into the Kaiser's army as an ambulance driver, or "a corpse carrier," as you would put it in later in your autobiography. As Max Ernst, you would have served in the German army. Pick your artist since no one was unaffected by the war. So, a continent lays in ruin, your life has been changed as well, and someone hands you a canvas. I put it thus because these artists might very well understand those who are exasperated by our current war in Iraq. Dadaists know war and its absurdity. So, perhaps we might also look to dada for answers to the question: how does one respond to the absurdity of war? Too often people feel alone with this emotion, this exasperation, since it doesn't seem like anything will change. Perhaps anti-war marches help people cope personally by showing that certain convictions are shared, but still the question of what to do is met with a sense of national collective helplessness.
A reminder which the dadaist did not need, but perhaps we should pause to remind ourselves is that war is not good. Some will say that war is at times necessary, but few if any would consider war itself a social good. It would be a hopeful scenario if war could go through the same imaginative and social transformation that slavery underwent in this country over the last century. Sure slavery still exists in the world, but few consider it a viable or compelling option. War has yet to assume a similar level of social stigmatism.
A couple months ago I watched Why We Fight, the film by Eugene Jarecki which won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. The film looks at the anatomy of the American war machine, weaving personal stories with commentary by military and beltway insiders. The film moves beyond the headlines of various American military operations to the deeper questions of why – why does America fight? What are the forces – political, economic, ideological – that drive us to fight against an ever-changing enemy? The movie takes its beginning from Dwight D. Eisenhower's farewell address, where Eisenhower wisely said:
Now this conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience...In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper together...It is strange to be reminded that less than fifty years have passed since Eisenhower proclaimed disarmament a continuing imperative, and now disarmament is a word rarely uttered in our national politics, hardly a conceptual possibility.
During the long lane of the history yet to be written, America knows that this world of ours, ever growing smaller, must avoid becoming a community of dreadful fear and hate, and be, instead, a proud confederation of mutual trust and respect. Such a confederation must be one of equals. The weakest must come to the conference table with the same confidence as do we, protected as we are by our moral, economic, and military strength. That table, though scarred by many past frustrations, cannot be abandoned for the certain agony of the battlefield.
Disarmament, with mutual honor and confidence, is a continuing imperative. Together we must learn how to compose differences, not with arms, but with intellect and decent purpose. Because this need is so sharp and apparent, I confess that I lay down my official responsibilities in this field with a definite sense of disappointment. As one who has witnessed the horror and the lingering sadness of war, as one who knows that another war could utterly destroy this civilization which has been so slowly and painfully built over thousands of years, I wish I could say tonight that a lasting peace is in sight. [3]
Dada was a revolt against a world in which the Great War could happen. Tristan Tzara, the essayist of what is now considered a movement, said, "The beginnings of dada were not the beginnings of an art, but of a disgust." Tzara's friend and important dadaist artist, Marcel Janco, recalled, "We had lost confidence in our culture. Everything had to be demolished. We would begin again after the 'tabula rasa.' At the Cabaret Voltaire we began by shocking common sense, public opinion, education, institutions, museums, good taste, in short, the whole prevailing order." Dada did not want to be a movement and resisted definition long before Derrida would similarly say about deconstruction, "I have no simple and formalizable response to this question [of what deconstruction is]. All my essays are attempts to have it out with this formidable question." I mention Derrida (or even before we could mention Martin Heidegger) because I take the limits of dada's power to be the same as the limits of deconstruction. Said differently, as much as dada attempts to critique society, it is at the same time part of society. This is, of course, the irony of dada: it intended to set itself against traditional art, but instead became the touchstone for much of twentieth century art. So, when asking how dada might help us today, one could argue that because dada did not, in fact could not, achieve its own ideal, it then must have little to teach. Yet, sometimes the attempt to destroy a ship by throwing oneself at the ships wheel, does not in the end destroy it but does change its direction and in so doing provides waypoints for those who follow.
(George Grosz, Gray Day (State Functionary for the War Wounded), 1921)
One powerful aspect of dada and one of Eisenhower's virtues when it comes to thinking about war was to rigorously portray the human cost. The painting above and print below stop all militaristic fanfare.
(George Grosz, The Hero; Lithograph, c. 1936)
Grosz's Gray Day points to a lack of connection between a governmental bureaucracy charged to care for her people and the suffering of her people (and especially those who suffered for her sake). Dada's political bite might spur a young photographer to do an exhibit of photographs of VA hospitals. How do we treat those we've asked (or bribed) to put their life on the line? Does it match the sexy "Army of One" message which you and I pay to be televised? The Hero confronts us with the grim realities of war from which we remain partially insulated. Embedded journalists are shown the story they are allowed to tell and worse, there is still a shroud around the war dead even if there are now holes through which to peek. These grim realities are things we need constantly before us since the war is supposedly being fought 'for us and our salvation.'
During his presidency, Eisenhower too thought of military costs in human terms. He regularly thought of military expenditures as a choice to be made between, say, a bomber and new schools. Today that would look like asking, do we want one more Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit bomber at $1.157 billion, or 23 more top of the line high schools in the US? Or answering the question of whether we'd prefer the $244 billion spent on the development of the Joint Strike Fighter through 2004 to be sent out to 8 million Americans in the form of $30,000 checks (or, we might choose 100 new $50M schools in each and every state in the US). The reason why framing these questions as choices is important is that they are in fact choices. Framing the questions in terms of 'what do we need to be safe' entails two problematic presumptions. First, that safety (as opposed to relative safety) is achievable, and, second, that our desire for safety does not compete with other of our concerns. When we fail to frame military expendatures as a choice between funding competing desires, it is like walking into a car dealership and asking for all the options which one needs to be comfortable. One walks away with an exceedingly high pricetag, finding oneself impoverished in the areas not considered by the question.
Lastly, we can all learn wisdom and storytelling from those dada artists who practiced photomontage.
Similar to cubist collage, but far more involved with text, is the practice of Dada photomontage as developed by Hannah Hoch, Raoul Hausmann, Kurt Schwitters and others (Georg Grosz, John Heartfield, Max Ernst). [Dada photomontage mirrors] the [modern] hypertext page [which] has words and images linking to other words and images; Dada photomontage is made up of bits of photos and other images along with words and phrases from the media, not 'things' but signifiers. These signifiers are recomposed into a new whole but point always to another 'page' from which they were snipped. So the Dada photomontage is like a sitemap--an image of one way all the fragments go together. [4]
Hannah Hoch, Meine Hausspruche (My Household Proverbs); (1923) 32 x 41.1cm
Practical wisdom (phronesis) is nothing more than the application of good judgment to human conduct. The virtue of practical wisdom has a lot to do with being able to connect different experiential data as one looks into the who, what, where, when, why of a situation and asks how one is to act, in what manner, to what degree, and in what time. These connections are precisely the kind of connections which photomontage teaches us to make. Likewise, storytelling takes disparate details, events, characters, and messages and weaves them into a unified whole. Drawing on narrative conventions, roles, and textures, the storyteller creates a story which makes these connections for her audience. Thus, photomontage serves as an artistic instruction in how to tell a compelling story, or one might say, an education in practical wisdom. We may want to remember what Walter Benjamin wrote in his great essay "The Storyteller:"
Every real story...contains, openly or covertly, something useful. The usefulness may, in one case, consist in a moral; in another, in some practical advice; in a third, in a proverb or maxim. In every case the storyteller is a man who has counsel for his readers. But if today 'having counsel' is beginning to have an old-fashioned ring, this is because the communicability of experience is decreasing. In consequence we have no counsel either for ourselves or for others. After all, counsel is less an answer to a question than a proposal concerning the continuation of a story which is just unfolding. To seek this counsel one would first have to be able to tell the story...Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdom. The art of storytelling is dying out because the epic side of truth, wisdom, is dying out.This storytelling, this wisdom, is reason enough to take the time to listen to dada in the hope that with this wisdom we will learn how to tell stories such that the idea of war itself requires a tremendous act of the imagination.
L.H.O.O.Q.
==========
[1] Wikipedia contributors, "Dada," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Dada&oldid=44541020 (accessed March 21, 2006).
[2] From the publisher of the hardcover companion to the Dada exhibit, entitled, Dada: Zurich, Berlin, Hanover, Cologne, New York, New York, Paris (ISBN: 1933045205).
[3] For text or sound recording of Eisenhower's farewell address, see: http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/dwightdeisenhowerfarewell.html
[4] See: Dillon, George L. 1944- "Dada Photomontage and net.art Sitemaps"
Postmodern Culture - Volume 10, Number 2, January 2000, The Johns Hopkins University Press.
5.05.2006
misc | 7.8 on the Funny Scale
Philosophers are fun...and now even fun to play with. Jeni--Thanks for this.
5.04.2006
film | "It's All Gone Pete Tong"
I've seen a lot of great films this year. While slowly working through the best of Woody Allen, I've found time for recent films like "Capote" or "Caché" while still working through classics like Bresson's "The Diary of a Country Priest," a movie all seminarians should be required to view, or Antonioni's "The Passenger," which revisited theaters late in 2005 prior to a DVD release.
With so many great films, why would I write about a less exceptional film which came out last year and made $120,620 at the U.S. Box Office? For the following reasons: I've been wanting to see the film since coming across a review last spring, I assume you've not seen (or heard of) it, and the movie works.
The movie begins with Frankie Wilde sitting atop the throne of the worldwide club scene as a DJ phenom. The title "It's All Gone Pete Tong" is Cockney rhyming slang for "It's all gone wrong."
Like any DJ will tell you, club music is about what's happening now and getting people to move. The movie operates similarly in that it moves you along and leaves you happy (even though you might not find the need to relive it when the night is over). It is now on DVD so let Mr. Netflix help you out if you can't find it elsewhere. I recommend it.
With so many great films, why would I write about a less exceptional film which came out last year and made $120,620 at the U.S. Box Office? For the following reasons: I've been wanting to see the film since coming across a review last spring, I assume you've not seen (or heard of) it, and the movie works.
The movie begins with Frankie Wilde sitting atop the throne of the worldwide club scene as a DJ phenom. The title "It's All Gone Pete Tong" is Cockney rhyming slang for "It's all gone wrong."[The title fits both the plot structure and subject, since Pete Tong is a well-known British DJ. Pete Tong has a good podcast which you can access here.]As the title suggests, it all goes wrong when Frankie begins to loose his hearing and ability to DJ, his wife, and himself to drug use. What is lost is found again when Frankie meets a speech therapist named Penelope. As Roger Ebert noted:
The movie works because of its heedless comic intensity; Kaye [who plays Frankie] and his writer-director, Michael Dowse, chronicle the rise and fall of Frankie Wilde as other directors have dealt with emperors and kings. Frankie may not be living the most significant life of our times, but tell that to Frankie. There is a kind of desperation in any club scene (as "24-Hour Party People" memorably demonstrated); it can be exhausting, having a good time, and the relentless pursuit of happiness becomes an effort to recapture remembered bliss from the past."It's All Gone Pete Tong" is not a movie that will change your life. Rather, it is a quirky, high-energy, fun film which balances a serious plot structure of loss and and redemption with its spastic, larger-than-life, main character. The whole is sastifactorily delivered in mockumentary packaging.
Like any DJ will tell you, club music is about what's happening now and getting people to move. The movie operates similarly in that it moves you along and leaves you happy (even though you might not find the need to relive it when the night is over). It is now on DVD so let Mr. Netflix help you out if you can't find it elsewhere. I recommend it.
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