Weekly Poetry Series

I was re-reading one of my favorite comics, when I realized that I wanted to start publishing something every week. The idea of a weekly series appeals to me in the way it allows ideas to develop over time, for me to truly hone and develop my own style and themes and to explore those in more and varied ways. I will be presenting all my poems in both Japanese and English, although supposedly poetry can’t be translated.

この世にたった一人の仲間
深夜と呼ばれ
抱き込んでくれる
昔男の言葉を理解しようとしながら
上がる曇りに溶けてしまい
その上に乗って
知らない国へ飛んで戻る
なぜかも

Midnight, my one and only friend, holds me in his arms
As I try to understand a man of old
I disappear into smoke which rises from the street
and fly back to a country I never knew
and yet, I don’t know why

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Tao Lin or The Bad Wave (下手主義)

Yesterday I spent some time reading up on expert opinions as to the new work that authors like Tao Lin and his circle in Brooklyin’ or the Based God and his supplicants (see: Steven Roggenbuck), and found that very few of the critics spoke to or about what I feel is the most important idea behind this contemporary movement in art, and try to talk a little bit about how it may reflect on the “status” of my generation (e.g. Romanticism as the status of youth during Industrialization, Hemmingway’s “Lost Generation,” the Beatnicks etc).

There is the macro-theory about Literary Movements that each new one is born from some rejection of the past one. Another way to state this is that when a new movement is born, it eventually becomes part of the status quo, and a “new” movement must therefore reject that status quo, otherwise it’s not new, sort of definitionally. Working with this theory, I will start with modernism: modernism rejected the assumption of almost all the movements before it that art was founded on certain forms of expression which were seen roughly as Platonic moments of beauty, such as the sonnet in poetry. (Obviously this is not a hard and fast rule, and I don’t claim it is, but this sort of idea was held and is well documented within artistic “instruction” of the day. Also note that artists who did not follow this idea such as VanGoh were famously unsuccessful.) Instead modernism said that the artist can construct new forms to match his intent and thus create a work as a totally unique expression of his worldview. This came along with developments in philosophy, especially in Idealist philosophies such as Existentialism.

Next came the Post-modernists, who further rejected the assumptions of previous movements. Exactly what they rejected is somewhat abstract, but can be understood as a result of the “post-structural” Hermeneutical philosophies which were being developed. The central idea was that language was not simply a mode for conveying information, but had information encoded in its structure. What this meant was that by restructuring the way you chose to look at the language of a work, you could entirely change the meaning thereof. Faced with this unlimited interpretative framework (which, by consequence, denied the author any true control over what his work ended up meaning) authors reacted by removing from the “communication” from their work. While Modernism maintained that the work was an expression of the authors feelings or ideas, Postmodernism did not. The specific ramifications of this are that lots of people neither like nor understand Postmodern works. Why? Because there is no intent for them to be understood. The author creates them with some irrelevant intent which may or may not have anything to do with the reader at all, and then the reader approaches the work, and, as he does with every other work, assigns it some arbitrary meaning, or even assigns it meaningless based on the context of his own life experience and mood at the time (is how Postmodernist thought goes). Out of this tradition (Beckett and the other absurdists) came mid-century novelists like Pynchon and David Foster-Wallace and even to a certain extent less dramatic formal experimentation such as in the magical realism of people like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, as well as all the weird stuff you see in “Modern” Art Museums.

Which brings me to right now, which I view as a sort of critical moment for new artists. Why? The answer, as with almost every revolution happening now, is the Internet. But before I examine that, I would like to state explicitly what I believe is happening. There is a sort of idea out in the literary world that you can’t go “further” than Postmodernism. That is, Postmodernism fundamentally allows you to make anything and say here is my text, it has meaning, and the claim that “it doesn’t have meaning” cannot be made. In that context, what sort of literary movement could reject this idea. In a world where “all” assumptions are malleable, where “all” manifestos are accepted, what could lie “outside.” The answer, I think, is what we are seeing today.

So what are we seeing? A rejection of the idea of “good.” See, Postmodernism still held itself accountable to the social conventions of the art world, and said that art is “good” if it sells, because that is what “good” art means. This is something you can see in the traditions of artists like Andy Warhol or his contemporary Japanese counterpart Takashi Murakami. They commoditize their works, because the consumption of a work is what makes it important, given that “meaning” is completely indeterminate. And thus, although there was nothing you could do per se about what your work would end up meaning, you could try and make something that would sell, you could try and make something that people would like, or would consider “good” or “important.” (Artists who did not like Pynchon and Foster-Wallace I think were on the forefront of the new movement we see today; however, simply looking at how long and intricately structured their novels are, I think it is plain to see they had some intent of applying literary “skill” to their writing.)

What we are seeing now is a rejection of the assumption of technique, that there is some “skill” which makes a work “good,” which, although not a tenet of Post-Modernism’s philosophy, was a part of it’s enaction in the art world. What does this mean? It mean’s artists making works with literally no process of craft, no idea of making it “better” over time. They make works which are actually “bad” in that they don’t appeal to any cultural sensibilities at all. Many people take this as “irony” or “commentary,” a sort of gimmick to achieve shallow meaning, and like or dislike it based on this interpretation, but I think this analysis is wholly incorrect. You can see in the works and intense internet based self promotion of Tao Lin not an attempt to poke fun at the literary world and it’s standards (if that is what he’s trying to do, he is doing so in a very drawn out and flaccid way), but rather a complete disregard for it at all. He, like Lil’ B and Steven R., is making works with no regard for editors or publishers or even some abstract concept of “good”-ness. He writes all simple sentences with little description and spaztic, almost lyrical imagery which has no apparent relevance to topics at hand. Who would wan’t to read such incomprehensible mush? That’s not the point. Tao Lin wanted to read it, so he made it.

This is, as Lil’ B calls it, “Based” art, it is held to no standards except the artist’s. It is literally whatever the artist wants to do with no qualifications. Such art may have existed before, but it could not be considered “real” or “important” or “good” because it could never get exposed and consumed, and so it was disregarded based on the capitalist standards which Postmodernism assumed. Now, with the internet, an individual can commoditize himself by himself out of his own self interest. What before might have been some horrible rap recorded over an old Raffi cassette tape never heard by anyone but the closest friends and relatives is now on Youtube getting 1000 views per day because it’s “so bad it’s funny” or because “I believe in Based God” or because “I hate those mainstream label rappers” or whatever; the point is it’s out there being sold and bought. The Postmodernists who want to protect their status as “skilled” and “important” artists cannot stand on capitalist claims anymore. If they do, they must accept this new breed of creators circumventing their entire distribution structure, or they must violate the fundamental law of their movement: that anything goes.

If we choose to read new literary movements as a window into that era’s youth zeitgeist, what sort of conclusions can be drawn about “my” generation. From my own experience and in my conversations with other people around my age, there is a feeling that the idea of society as a whole has let us down. It is sort of the general condition one of who’s specific results is low voting rates among young people. I myself have this sort of feeling, which I might categorize as an absolute disenfranchisement: it is a disenfranchisement with the idea of the franchise. On the surface, this appears as a form of relativism, sort of the idea that “anything goes,” but that is actually a step behind. What is found in these works is more the concept that “nothing goes.” Success has nothing to do with experimentation, or concept, or  statement, or purpose, or politics, or even “art society.” All it is is money and notoriety, and if you get those things, then you’re done, according to the world. This art movement is exposing this emptiness by garnering success with nothing — selling “stock” in an unwritten book; marketing “rare” self-footage as your own paparazzi; monetizing your life and living off it.

That is my feeling around these works: I look and I see self promoted success undermining all the ideas about success; the ideas upon which our society is founded. It captures an exhaustion with cultures of expectation: relativism, pluralism, fairness, liberty, skill, effort, all these things we are told we are supposed to hold dear, and yet at the same time are completely up for question and hold no real value but are nonetheless the only real good things in life, as long as you acknowledge that you don’t really know. It’s like being told: go explore and find out for yourself, but don’t bother anyone else with it when you do because you’re wrong anyway. These artists say“No, I won’t look, I won’t find, I will just do nothing and make it, because I can, and who will stop me?”

And that’s the real point. No one will. They’re “making it.” On the backs of nothing “good.”

So either there was nothing “good” in the first place, or that’s not what “making it” is all about.

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Primacy or I Thought a Bunch and Had Some Neat Ideas

This is my first post in a long time. In this post, I am thinking about primacy, that is, the things which are primal. Today I will talk about three primacies—Language, Decision and Action—and how they operate in contrast to the commonly assumed false primacies of Object, Emotion and Thought.

The Primacy of Language not the Primacy of Object

What I call the Primacy of Object is the idea of objects in the world that we experience directly. In this framework, the object is the generator of experience. Thus its properties determine its existence; hence it is prime. The problem is that the subjective observer has no way to grasp the object; he can only grasp his experience of the object (standard issues of subjectivity). Since the mind is known to be capable of imagination, that is, generation of concrete experience with no object (think of children with imaginary friends) the object quickly falls apart. If the object is in question, then its primacy surely is as well. What, then, has primacy in physical existence?

If we start from the situation arrived at, a world of unverified illusion, and allow ourselves to imagine another agent, then suddenly existence gains restriction, that is, what is real cannot be inconsistent between our perspectives. If it is, then those inconsistencies become “opinion” while the rest of the agreed upon world becomes “fact.” What is prime, then, is the method by which agents can agree: that is, a language. The short statement of this is the chair exists because we agree it is there. This is easily seen in its negative, if we do not agree, the chair’s existence is called into question.

The Primacy of Decision not the Primacy of Emotion

The Primacy of Emotion I name the idea of Shakespeare’s love, i.e. the eternal emotion. The simple counter-statement is that no emotion is eternal. In fact, with the exception of love, emotions are almost strictly assumed to be variant, often extremely so. Negative emotions are often “given time” to pass. “Time heals all wounds” etc.

However, without the primacy of emotion, the self begins to fade. The questions “What do I want?” and “How do I feel?” are as near to “Who am I?” as can be asked with reasonable answers forthcoming. If the answers to these questions have no primacy, are purely products of situation and have no bearing on a primal self, consciousness becomes meaningless and the self all but disappears? Then what is prime in the self?

My answer, if you could not guess, is decision, i.e. the ability to commit to a choice. In this framework, “love” “forgiveness” and “hatred” are not dependent on feelings, although they can certainly be affected thereby. They are labels for certain commitments, and as long as that commitment is maintained, this condition exists. For instance, “love” is the decision to value an other’s wellbeing as much as the self’s.

The Primacy of Action and not the Primacy of Thought

For my last point, I skip straight to a thought experiment. If a man says “I believe people should not kill children” and then kills a child, can what he said be true? I always take common sense as my philosophical compass, and so my answer is no. If you act counter to a statement of belief, that belief cannot be true. It can become true again after the fact, and may even be more convincing from experience, but the statement “I believe…” implies a code of action, or more correctly, the statement “I believe…” is a code of action. A result of this is that two statements of belief which produce the same code of action are the same statement. (Compare to the first point, two languages referring to the same “object” with different words).

This is counter to the concept of hypocrisy. In this schema, action is statement, and so it is impossible to not “practice what you preach” since the only way to preach is in practice. (Practically, people can be dicks and lie, but they at least cannot believe one thing and do another. It also casts large shadows on the Republican platform.)

checkPrime

These are not simply abstract results. They translate directly into emotional suffering (the first, less so). The second point, somewhat obviously lies at the crux of “losing the spark.” In my world, the spark means nothing (which is not to say that it isn’t very nice), and thus when it passes, while it may be missed, it has no bearing on the reality of “love” (it may or may not affect my decision, but at least I need not worry “Was it real?” the answer being, it was as real as anything else i.e. not very real at all). The third point allows for a relief of tension which I believe many people experience but do not realize (because I did once and then realized and it was awesome); they spend a lot of time trying to believe things that they do not think are true. With my idea, it is easy to catch this problem. You simply say, “Am I acting like I believe this?” If no, you simply change how you act, or change your statement of belief, and suddenly sweeping, stress inducing regions of thought disappear and everything feels better all the time.

As for the first result, it matters less so personally and more so socially, the basic result being everyone’s experiences are equally valid, and thus should be treated the same (as long as you assume other agents exist. If you don’t you end up in a world where have theoretical complete control over everything, and, while you can say you believe this, it is hard to act like you do.)

[Noam Chomsky, J-pop super duo, a couple cool pictures, and Holy Check]

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Meaning and Subversion part I of [#]

I am writing this post  in an attempt to work through some of my issues relative to creation which have been emerging for the past while.

Firstly, it has come to my attention that meaning is not at all straight forward. This has caused me to wonder what meaning is at all.

Secondly, it has come to my attention that the meaning of a work can come from many different directions. This has caused me to wonder what meaning is at all.

Thirdly, it has come to my attention that meaning has nothing to do with skill. This has caused me to wonder what meaning is at all.

The question, then, is what is meaning?

The short answer is: “…something.” The long answer is much longer (also, I’m not sure what it is).

To perhaps get some ideas, let me go into detail about my questions. Specifically, what facts brought these three considerations to my attention.

The complexity of meaning


A few nights ago myself and a few were out in a field late at night. We saw a radio tower. I remarked on how meaningful the image of the radio tower was. One of my friends posited that the image of the radio tower had something to do with human ingenuity, power, technology, the future. If you think about it, this is “pretty bad” as theories go. Essentially, it entirely misses the mark: radio and the radio tower has not been technologically relevant for almost 100 years now, similar to sky scrapers. Tall buildings, electric rails, public transit, cosmopolitan life is now the norm. Consider the contemporary image of the country bumpkin or lost in the big city: the novelty of the modern is itself novel. This idea — as it can be seen to be — seemed, in my mind, clearly wrong from the moment I heard it. However, it is a fairly apparent and resonant reading of the radio tower: three flashing red lights all in a row testifying to man’s dominance over his world. This is, all things considered, not a bad interpretation. It could even be an image in a “pretty okay” novel. That said, it was patently incorrect. That is when I realized that meaning has nearly nothing to do with interpretation. What an object means to a me — and I extend that therefore to the abstract person — has almost nothing to do with any “statement” or “idea.” The object (in the realm of creation, the text) is an experience, and that experience is where the meaning comes from [note: currently thinking this through as I write; if I end up going somewhere completely different, sue me], not from the object itself. [The next statement seemed important so I put it on it’s own line, but really it should be in the same paragraph].

It is not the circumstances of the object that give it meaning, but the circumstances in which it is read.

Elements of post-structuralism are creeping in. That’s probably a good sign.

The multiplicity of meaning


Maybe a year and a half ago now I discovered a band Deerhoof. At the time, I had some vaguely established notions of meaning in music centering around Neutral Milk Hotel (2EZ) which had something to do with meaning coming from lyrics (obv). What was not obv was that my whole concept of meaning in music was about to be blown open by a band whose lyrics I could barely understand, and when I finally did, weren’t “good” per se. Rather they were simplistic, goofy and playful. There was no deep expression of the human condition. Rather there were memorable choruses such as: “Panda Panda Panda/Panda Pan/Panda” “Flower/Flower/Fla-u-wa” “Dog on the sidewalk/dog on the sidewalk/dog on the sidewalk/I saw/I saw.” And yet, I found this music as meaningful as Neutral Milk Hotel. I found myself finding meaning not in the direct songs themselves, but how they related to my concept of meaning at the time. [Note: the temporality, “at the time,” of this statement comes from my first concept of meaning in the moment of reading.]

Then I realized that subversion of meaning is itself a meaningful act. Something like an incompleteness theorem emerges: no schema of meaning is complete, since any act which subverts this schema creates new meaning which the schema cannot ignore since it is an act of meaning in direct relation to the schema itself. Thus, any concept of meaning is either continually expanding or must reject some form of creation.

In other words, there is no way to accept everything all at once.

The craft of meaning


Once I heard “Acid Police” for the first time, I realized that skill and meaning have nothing to do with each other. This was the entire process of this realization: “Acid Police” is the least skillful song I have probably ever heard; “Acid Police” is one of the most meaningful songs I have ever heard; ergo, meaning has no relation to skill. This is fairly worrying if you consider any form of technical hierarchy (e.g. any arts organization in Japan [see, it’s not all good]) in the realms of “art” (as the hierarchies would call it).

This brings into question the merit of the artist in terms of the work. It is standard practice to call the creator of a meaningful work a “good” artist or a skillful artist. Obviously, the reasoning goes, if he created something meaningful he must have some ability that is exceptional, because not everyone makes meaningful things. In fact, most people, when they try to do something meaningful, don’t (e.g. fanfiction). The realization that skill is not what is at play in the artist is worrying, because suddenly the reverence which we place on meaning is cheapened. We revere the work for its impact, and so we naturally revere its creator (as we revere our own [see whut I did there]). However, that reverence is misplaced, or rather, has no base. Meaning is not a singular act of the creator (this is a natural result of the complexity conclusion). Then where do we find object for our meaning? Who or what causes this meaning to exist? Culture? Me? God?

I don’t know.

It’s over

I made some statements; I asked some questions. People who can read will notice that this is “part I.” I will come back to these ideas in the coming posts, hopefully to develop some working theory by which this creation blog can operate.

Seems like a good place to end, so I did it.

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Hyperviolence and the Image

Inspired by Based Disciple Patrick Beane’s recent post on OFWGKTA I’ve decided to address the issue of hyperviolence.

Hyperviolence is an image of violence taken into the grotesque. See: Battle Royale (comic), Parasyte (comic), Quentin Tarantino (duh), Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All (see link), etc. Defining characteristic being that the violent act is given an aesthetic. In Battle Royale, the moment of grotesque mutilation is frozen in exquisite detail; Parasyte similarly so. Tarantino well known for his hyper-real violence stylized with long dialogue and slow pacing. OFWGKTA making waves with their over-use of violent imagery amidst some of the most impressive and subtle lyricism in hip hop. The point is, hyperviolence takes the grotesque and makes it beautiful.

Two moralizing interpretations emerge: it releases our instincts or it makes us confront them. Besides operating on the flawed plane of moral standard, which makes no claim on the content of creation (merely its action), these readings fail on two further counts: it fails to address the stylistic dressings which take hyperviolence above plain gross and it ignores the meta-text being discussed of violence in the image.

Recently, I read Susan Sontag’s Regarding the Pain of Others (much later than I was supposed to for a course, but in any case) which deals with much of the rhetoric of the failed image of pain. The idea is, historically, that the image, invented at the turn of the century, was thought to be the end to wars. Images from World War I captured in new media were thought to bring the horrors of war to the world they could never reach before, and in fact, the images did. People then proceeded to wage another World War after which television entering the scene brought the image to mass media, showed Vietnam, and again, had no effect. Now we live in a rhetoric of “desensitized” masses living in a world of disturbing double standards where the pain of the other can be neither understood nor scene even when presented to us in horrifying detail.

Hyperviolence then enters into the rhetoric of pain to expose the flaws of the violent image. Battle Royale and Parasyte bring forth the grotesque in the image of pain. They discuss, both in style and in theme (evidence of both works being well planned), the eroticism of pain and death, the pleasure of killing and of seeing death. Tarantino brings forth the “cool” of pain. He (unintentionally, I presume) exposes the culture of reverence surrounding the violent act as (as with anything “cool”) an expression of self. OFWGKTA brings forth the insecurity of pain. Violence compensates for self-confidence in a society where emotion has no adequate voice.

Hyperviolence subverts the image and exposes its flaws. It is shocking because its violence is not revered as violence is supposed to be: an awful act (in every sense). Rather it is base, it is erotic or willful or fearful. Then violence stops making sense. War becomes pure horror. Murder is a testimony against reason. We are confronted with the fact that we have rationalized something which is absolutely absurd. That is scary and that is important.

That is what hyperviolence does, and it is interesting.

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