A Gloss on the Child and Wonder

 "Blue Boy" Thomas Gainsborough 

Warning: This is merely a gloss and not a full argument. I am trying to think of the implications of the following issues for a larger paper on the topic of wonder: In 18^th century British genre painting, the novel and lyrical poetry gives rise to the notion of the child as a category of spontaneity and innocence. Blake, exalts the child in his Songs of Innocence and describes experience as a rite of passage in the Songs of Experience. Art in this period glorified the child as well, like Gainsborough’s the Blue Boy. The child as imaginative exuberance fits nicely into the Romantic project for what poets like Blake, Wordsworth and Coleridge tried to do was to break away from the stodgy hierarchies of Classicism to create a new kind of poetry that favored immediate experience and truth-seeking through the natural, everyday things of life. Coleridge sought to find the extraordinary in the ordinary, creating nostalgic lyrics that suggest tales of a Mediaeval source but are actually products of a childhood imagination. Romanticism, according to critics like Philip Aries and James Kincaid, created a rift between adult and child as two separate entities. Kincaid writes in his book Child-loving: The Erotic Child and Victorian Culture, “However much of childhood radiance is lost by the adult and however difficult the connections may be to recover, Wordsworth and Coleridge are not talking about two species staring at each other across the chasm of puberty but about a form of imaginative and spiritual continuity” (63). For Coleridge the child and his own childhood is a spring of “imagination and spiritual continuity”.  There is this idea of the child who is not marred by Blakean experience, untrammeled by the vicissitudes of life, is the engine of art.
I wonder though if we have misinterpreted the project of Romanticism proper. It is not that the child, as such, is the inspiration for art, but that art is born from the child. To be an artist one must be like a child in only one way: to wonder. Bridging the gap of experience, the only thing the artist takes with him from childhood, is wonder, but transmuted -- not the wonder of being in its fullness, which puberty finds it to be a sham -- but the wonder of being in its limits. For isn't the project of adulthood the wonder of being a philosopher? The fear of death no longer is the fear that there is no God, the fear of the child, but rather, that in death, we will no longer be able to philosophize.
Feel free to share your own ideas, below:

Book Review: Virginia Woolf as Philosopher for the People

Three Guineas Journal

In this post, I offer a review of Virginia Woolf’s searing report on the devastating effects of war. It's her most articulate contribution to the history of ideas because it articulates quite well, and cogently – in the manner of classical rhetoric — ideas about pacifism, women, and war. Having lived through the First World War, Woolf dreads the possibility of another one to come . . .

     

Three Guineas is a bitter discourse on the prevention of war, and defense of philanthropy, and women; it is also an attack on the growing hegemonic power afloat in Europe before the Second World War; it is an older and hardened view, distinct from the more playful A Room of One’s Own she had written earlier, which is more about the sexuality of women, the spirit of women. However, it touches on some of the issues she expounds upon in Three Guineas. In a way, it is like a sequel; actually, I think this is how Woolf intended it. Three Guineas comes out of the work she did on The Years, her most famous novel, about the Pargiter family, their history from the 19th century to Woolf’s present day.
      Woolf published the book Three Guineas out of her own Hogarth press. I wonder how many people actually “got it” or even took the time to read the book? I wonder how many people actually read A Room of One’s Own and “got it”? The slim volume deserves a second look. I think Woolf is important to intellectual thought. Woolf is part of what I call intellectual talk within intellectual circles and also, by her own admission, critical to the public sphere of intellectualism. Woolf attempts to speak to everyman. She is a philosopher for the people. Three Guineas is filled with harsh condemnations. She accuses society of having an infantile fixation (134-135); of the widening gap between the public and private sectors and the use of clothing to deceive young men into joining the war effort (14). I find Woolf to be candid in this book. I think she states some hard arguments. The difficulty of the book is following Woolf’s train of thought; Woolf reads like an autodidact, which she was, and her arguments sometimes feel more passionate than systematically thought out; but, I reason, she has spent so much time, energy and words on these issues; I feel ill at ease following her passion because I sense she doesn’t have to convince me; I know she must be right!

     One significant contribution she gives in this work is that she nuances the stance of feminism. Feminist thought is not dead even though women can now vote and work, Woolf argues. We can’t stop now as if everything is equal and normal for women. As if women and men are the same. There will still be Creons abusing Antigones. But, Woolf is not fatalistic. She does see that something must be done. There is a web site I found about an organization founded in 1993 called the Three Guineas Organization. It helps women and girls through education, similar to the groups that were writing to Woolf asking for aid.
     I say Three Guineas is a bitter discourse because it is written not as a romp through Oxford and the British Library, but an attempt to ask the hard questions and a realization of forces greater than our control. Woolf intuits the horror of the World War and the seeming repetition of war, the misuse of women throughout history; “Things repeat themselves it seems. Pictures and voices are the same today as they were 2,000 years ago” (141). I think she sees Hitler and Fascism for what it really was: not for true freedom and liberty but rather threatening to Western Civilization. Of course, war is threatening. But she asks: how does war deplete society? Why are women asking for money? How does war take away resources, thus eroding the cornerstone of liberal arts education, the workforce, and liberty in general? Why are these three different organizations, even asking for money in the first place? Will a guinea also help them? Shouldn’t society be asking why they must plead for money in the first place? Why are the administrators of a woman’s college living under deplorable conditions, begging? In a letter to Woolf, an accountant for the college asks, “Will you send a subscription to [our society] in order to help us to earn our living? Failing money … any gift will be acceptable – books, fruit, or cast-off clothing that can be sold in a bazaar (41)”.
     Woolf wants to know why is this school asking for money? Haven’t women been liberated for the past twenty years? She includes a response to such a request for a subscription, asking, “How can it be, we repeat? Surely there must be some very grave defect, of common humanity, of common justice, or of common sense” (41-42).
     I noticed in this book that Woolf is aware of the influence of photography (at least 11 and 142). She writes about the horrors of war recorded by the camera. This book is timely today because we can trace how the influence of the camera has made an arc to the television set, to the Internet. We are inundated with images that dictate how we are supposed to look at the world. I love how she is so contemporary with this issue.
What is the meaning of these words that we are willing to die to defend? Freedom? Liberty? Rights of Man?
      She lambasts an army general’s debonair suit by pointing out that in battle, soldiers do not wear finery. Woolf concludes that the regalia of uniforms is a lure to get young men to join the military. The suit does not tell the truth; uniforms are deceptive instruments to get people in the ranks, to fight the countries wars.
      Also, isn’t it interesting that Woolf questions giving the money to these different organizations? She challenges us to look at things from all the different points of view, preferably three. She has three newspapers on her desk. “Therefore if you want to know any facts about politics you must read at least three different papers, compare at least three different versions of the same fact, and come in the end to your own conclusion” (95). Woolf challenges the reader to think critically. Not to look merely at one source and form our opinion. We should have at least three sources about the same topic in front of us. Librarians probably agree; parts of this book could serve as an introduction to Library Science. How many times do I get letters in the mail asking for money? Do I ask myself the reasons behind their requests for money? Do I wonder why they really need the money in the first place? Woolf, I bet, surprises the honorary treasures by questioning their requests. Partly to get them to think about their situations and partly, for Woolf’s part, to answer the real questions.
Why does she attack H.G. Wells? I was surprised to see Wells included in this book; I didn’t think Woolf would go after a particular person in this polemic. But she does. She seems to see him as superficial. Wells obviously does not fight for the same principles as Woolf.
      We are not fighting for the rights of man or for woman. We should be rallying the cause of humanity; because, isn’t it, like Georges Sands says – “all beings are interdependent of one another”? Who of us can present ourselves as insulated, cut off from one another? Because we are a man? Because we are a woman? Most of our problems stem from the insistence on creating sharp distinctions between man/woman; free/slave; public/private. Maybe Woolf is calling for, in this book, is a common interest; “it is one world; one life” (142).

source: Woolf, Virginia,  Three Guineas.  Harcourt Brace. 1938, 1966. 

PDF Copy for Printing

Movie Review: The Social Network

It should be no surprise that a film like the Social Network would eventually be made. Again. It is a story, as you will notice, if you see it, told over and over again. But, it is a story we like to hear, a story of greed and loss. The story of a man’s quick climb to power and wealth at the cost of losing friends and intimacy has found more than one expression in American cinema. Citizen Kane anyone? Or how about The Godfather? The snapshot images of a solitary Kane whispering "rosebud" is strangely resonant with that of Mark Zukerberg clicking a refresh button for hoped for human connection.

Citizen Kane, anyone?

The Social Network is Real Enough (With Some Artistic Liberties Taken)
Now, don't go worrying about whether the plot of the Social network is accurate or not. A simple Google search will reveal some of the plot is contrived, most notably the first scene that pretends to create the imbroglio that starts TheFacebook, namely, a break-up. The film is not too slow to remind us that its protagonist is not very likable. In fact, he is a jerk. Sexist, as well, and has a penchant for younger Asian girls, albeit an unnerving social awkwardness stereotypical of boys who write programming code. Aaron Sorkin's masterpiece is not really about Facebook, per se, but rather, an opportunity to elaborate on an American myth. Sure, we will believe -- or shall I say — can believe — Mark is painted to be the kind of guy who would sell out his friends. The lawyer at the end of the films acts as the audience when she tells Mark, “Myths need a devil.” Give us — the audience — enough details and we will gladly fill in the rest.

Craving the Limelight

The indictment of Mark Zuckerberg really isn't about Mark Zuckerberg so much as it is about a fascination with greed and power. Let's say it wasn't Mark Zuckerberg who created a website called facemash.com where Harvard girls were compared online to one another by Harvard boys (22,000 page views in one night). Let us say it wasn't Zuckerberg who may or may not have posted a blog post confessing his ex-girlfriend's true bra size. Let us say it was not Zuckerberg who may or may not have called the cops on Sean Parker who was with a minor at a party with illegal drugs (with Zuckerberg in the know, but in absentia). Let us say Mark had no idea that his best friend Eduardo Saverin would be pushed out of Facebook, rather mercilessly. 

It doesn't matter. Facebook is fascinating because a lanky, unlikeable Harvard nerd made it to the top. The key term is unlikable. When we realize it was not the more courteous Saverin who brought Facebook to fame -- nor was it the Winklevoss Brothers -- or anyone else at Harvard -- we realize that Mark Zuckerberg is kind of like a contemporary version of Charles Foster Kane. What is next? Will he fight for the common man? Well, sure. He already has. Who gave 100 million dollars (or some outrageous figure) to New Jersey public schools? Mark Zuckerberg! Zuckerberg's philanthropy -- disingenuous or not -- is a necessary element in the narrative. I cannot help but think of Charles Foster Kane's historical inspiration, William Randolph Hearst and his philanthropic effort to save New Yorkers from transit fare raises. But, we know from history, neither Mark Zuckerberg or William Randolph Hearst were experts in ethical do-gooding.

Facebook as an American Fantasy of the Garden of Eden

Being sued by the Winklevoss brothers, handsome rich rowing twins from Harvard for purportedly stealing their idea of a college social networking site, Mark is happy to make them angry because, as he says, they never had the experience before of someone else stopping them from doing what they want to do. The creation of Facebook on hand is like Charles Foster Kane's beginning glory: the icon of the wealthy philanthropist who used power to shame the good ole boys. But, there is also the dark side. He betrays his friend. His only friend, Eduardo Saverin. The film takes on an uncanny color of American myth. Watching the film, I felt like I was not watching a biopic of a guy who created a social networking site I use daily, and like very much, but the story of the American Garden of Eden -- the lust for power that make such stores as John Steinbeck's The Pearl and East of Eden. The American dream also spoiled and tainted by American lust. The American trope of succesful, yet disconnected, as also embodied by the current TV character Draper in "Madmen".

This is the dilemma of the film.

How can a man create a social networking site and make billions and billions of dollars and know nothing of human nature? Knowledge of human nature does not bring in the dough. Why? Because people do not care about human nature; we care about as a gestalt, but not as something to grasp. We care about status and tags because it feeds our self-image. We like the likes and the words on our walls because it makes us feel connected when were are not connected. I don’t think Mark Zuckerberg created facebook as a huge social experiment. He created it because he realized that the site could make him famous. Which it did. Or, to put it another way, it justified him. Because he deserved it. Right. 

Parable of Genius

Steve Jobs did not create Apple in his garage because he thought it would be fun to sell computers. He had an intuition that his computers would catch on with the masses. Zuckerberg is a genius in the same way. The film the Social Network is everything about Mark Zuckerberg and at the same time, it is nothing about Mark Zuckerberg. The film is about genius and the ability to see a pathway that no one else sees and go for it. But, the film, for me at least, is also about the price of ambition. A narrative truly American. And we a jury of peers can easily judge.

The Social Network

Director: 

David Fincher

Writers: 

Aaron Sorkin (screenplay), Ben Mezrich (book)

Mark Zuckerberg Jesse Eisenberg
Eduardo Andrew Garfield
Sean Justin Timberlake
Cameron/Tyler Armie Hammer
Divya Max Minghella
Erica Rooney Mara
Marilyn Rashida Jones

Columbia Pictures presents a film directed by David Fincher. Written by Aaron Sorkin, based on the book The Accidental Billionaires by Ben Mezrich. Running time: 120 minutes. Rated PG-13 (for sexual content, drug and alcohol use and language).

PDF Copy for Printing

credits © Roger Ebert

When Woody Fell Into the number 6 Local

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Video: Train Enters the Station at 14th Street Union Square

With accompaniment by Joan Baez, "Old Welsh Song" from the album Baptism

---

Manhattan-bound Local 6 Train enters the station at 14th Street Union Square Station in New York City. Notice the curvature of the tracks. People are visible both on the platform and on the mezzanine level. At a brief moment, one can see the train's motorman through the car window. Union Square Station services subway lines L, N, Q, R, 4, 5, and 6 trains and is situated directly below Union Square Park. The Soundtrack is Joan Baez's lyric piece, "Old Welsh Song." 

I take with me where I go
A pen and a golden bowl
Poet and beggar step in my shoes,
Or a prince in a purple shawl.
I bring with me when I return
To the house that my father's hands made,
A crooning bird on a chrystal bough and,
O, a sad, sad word!  

PDF Copy for Printing 

Boy on Vintage MTA Bus

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:MTA Bus Festival, Boerum Place and Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn, New York