On the X-Files . . .

I continue to return to the X-files as something I admire and am in awe of. I say this not simply because the X-Files was my chosen object for the junior-high obession phase of my life, nor because to this day, if I were to taylor-make the phsyical specifications of an ideal man, he would undoubtedly be either David Duchnovy or Jim Sturgess, but because after retrospective examination and, I hope, a better sense of objective consideration, I think the show actually did a number of things very well. In particular, the dual ability to portray something at this at immediate in its enterainment value - compelling, interesting, and unique, while aslo more subtlely (or perhaps not) addressing much bigger things. The show grapples, of course, with huge, metaphysical issues both literally and more symbolically, but does so in such a way that the audience may not even realize what truly meaningful points are being raised. "I want to Believe" and "Trust no one" are iconic phrases, easily dismissed as part-and-parcel of a show dedicated to paranoia and drama. But for me, the way the show considers these big ideas using the specifc storylines of government cover-ups, alien abductions, and folklore finding real atecedents, allows me to temporarily forget about the biases I have when thinking about belief in my own life. Not to be too revealing or self-indulgent, but as a person who once felt a great presence of faith in my personal life and then progressively lost that sense of faith, the phrase "I want to believe" is incredibly compelling because it is true. What I think mainstream attempts for conversion or even discussion of belief are missing is that sometimes it is best to consider the basis of belief, the desire for it, and its relatioship to who you are in a whole different context.

For another example, listen to this great NPR interview with David Duchovny, who I deem a perfectly legitimate scholarly reference, by the way, since he was on his way to a masters degree in English from Princeton before changing paths in life. As you will hear, for him, the episode where a player in the Negro League turns out to be an alien, while entetaining in its own right, is also playing with the themes of aliens and alientation. fantastic.

To weave these additional layers of meaning into otherwise creative/entertaining projects takes talent. Making direct statements about these topics often falls flat, has no appeal, and no staying power. And making the creative material that is basically the mental equivalent of eating popcorn makes no demands of the intellect at all.

This duality of the xfiles, to be at once entertaining and enjoyable and, upon closer, nerdier inspection, an attempt to explore something much larger and more universal, is something I admire in a number of forms of enterainment. Jonathan Coulton songs, for instance.

It is a perfeclty nerdy thing to do . . . take something well beyond its face value and inscribe great levels of meaning and significance to all its actions. The same fervor with which I applied my interest in knowing episode names and quotes as a 7th grade girl has morphed into an adult interest in the larger structure, the behind-the-scenes creative work which directed these fascinating details into a compelling story. This nerdy tendency is perhaps why shows like the X-Files or music like Jonathan Coulton's is so interesting to those of us who over-analyize a little too much.

Making complex narratives

Also, I was thinking about the Simpsons (thought other shows do this too) where there will be a main storyline but then a sub-story that intersects every once in awhile but mostly just happens on its own, or the show begins with its own little scene, a short set of jokes that really doesn't do anything for the main plot of the show, but is just funny, and I think they talked about that with Fr. Ted too (the authors) how they would conceive of a show by having 2 or 3 funny scenes that were just funny in and of themselves, because of their set-up or situation, and then build around them. Set peices kind of a thing. So that makes me think about how I can repeat characters or jokes in a painting narrative or how I can have a sub-character or literally a background story going on, adding other characters that support or intersect. . . . trying to make the narrative more complex or make more layers to what is going on. I wonder if I can tell a story in a room but not necessarily in order. Not a linear story, but scenes, a moment and maybe not of an event, the way our mind goes back and forth from flashes of long ago to yesterday to whatever. Hmmmm.

"The Evolution of Introspective Consciousness"

Another fascinating tid-bit from the Radiolab episode "Who Am I?"

Then they talked about V.S. Ramachandran's theory about the evolution of introspective consciousness and how there is something uniquely human in our ability to construct narrative or story. . And I wonder to myself about how central this notion of story really is to human beings. Which leads me also to think about how Ira Glass talks about narrative and its importance or familiarity (in structuring This American Life) . . . and then i move to what my paintings can be in terms of narrative qualities. . . what are narrative paintings like. . and how do we strip them of narrative or add narrative. . . I read in maybe a New American paintings about artists who aim to "strip the works of their narrative quality" (I think in that case, it was removing background context for a figure). . . but what does it mean to strip the paintings of narrative quality and does that affect their meaning (like Landau's TMT stuff - abstract and unlikable :)) and the importance of a picture in your head in creating that narrative in our minds. . . they talk about how we "juggle" symbols in our minds - make things that can't exist anywhere in nature - LETS WRITE A THESIS! :)

Self is a story

"The self is the story of what's happened to that body over time." (Paul Broks)
So what you are saying is that we are essentially a narrative? (paraphrased Robert Krulwich)
"if you ask me about msyelf, i'll tell you a story." (Paul Broks)

Exactly.
This is from a Radiolab episode ("Who Am I?"), by the way, and Paul Broks wrote Into the Silent Land: Travels in Neuropsychology which I can't remember if I attempted to read or not.

Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Become Real

Remember how much that velveteen rabbit story destroyed you as a kid? What a terrible thing to imagine, as a child, your little stuffed animal that you treasure, being burned because you got your filthy germs all over it?

"The Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Become Real is a children's novel written by Margery Williams and illustrated by William Nicholson. It chronicles the story of a stuffed rabbit and his quest to become real through the love of his owner.

A boy receives a Velveteen Rabbit for Christmas. The Velveteen Rabbit is snubbed by other more expensive or mechanical toys, the latter of which fancy themselves real. One day while talking with the Skin Horse, the Rabbit learns that a toy becomes real if its owner really and truly loves it.

When the boy's china dog is misplaced, the Velveteen Rabbit is given to the boy as a quick replacement by the maid. The Velveteen Rabbit soon takes his place as the boy's constant companion. The Rabbit becomes shabbier, but the boy loves him no matter what. In the woods near the boy's home, the Velveteen Rabbit meets actual rabbits, and learns about the differences between himself and the real rabbits when the real rabbits prove he is not real by his inability to hop or jump or his shedding fur.

The Velveteen Rabbit's companionship with the boy lasts until the boy falls ill with scarlet fever. The boy becomes too ill to play for a very long time; upon his recovery, he is sent to the seaside on doctor's orders. The boy wishes to take the Rabbit with him, but his doctor forbids him to take the germ-laden toy and says it must be burned along with all the nursery toys in order to disinfect the nursery. The boy is given a new plush rabbit with glass eyes and is so excited about the trip to the seaside that he forgets his old Velveteen Rabbit. While awaiting the bonfire, in which the Velveteen Rabbit will be burned, the Rabbit cries a real tear. This tear brings forth the Nursery Magic Fairy. She tells the Rabbit that he was only real to the boy and brings him to the woods, where he realizes that he is a real rabbit at last and runs to join the other rabbits in the wild.

The following spring, the boy sees the Rabbit hopping in the wild and thinks he looks like his old Velveteen Rabbit, but he never knows that it actually was. The Rabbit, however, knows that he used to be an old stuffed animal and the boy had loved him.

From the Wikipedia article The Velveteen Rabbit

I can't even begin to unpack how great this simple story is in terms of exploring what is real and what is fiction. It plays with reality and fantasy in much the same way that I am interested in looking at illustration-style images vs. photographic-style images, deals with death and loss, with love making something real. . .

I had no idea that this book was also called "How Toys Become Real" but I think that is one of the most fantastic and amazing titles for a book I have ever heard. It immediately reminds me of Pinnochio (obviously) but then in a tangential way, Peter Pan (maybe because they are both Disney? or both about dreams and fantasy?) which leads me in some kind of linear fashion to Michael Jackson, and then to Jeff Koons and on and on. So this may have nothing to do with those things, but they seem to be next to one another in my brain.

Dog books

Also, what the hell is this?

"My Puppy Book" by Sandra Boyton

Straw dog . . . and Clifford

straw dog: In business, something (an idea, or plan, usually) set up to be knocked down. It's the dangerous philosophy of presenting one mediocre idea, so that the listener will make the choice of the better idea which follows.

straw dog: Something that is made only to be destroyed.

So. . . i feel like we have this idea that death is some kind of abomination - something unnatural. . . a wrong done to us that shouldn't happen and maybe something about the fatlism . . . like we were CREATED to be destroyed. That is the whole point? It makes me sad. It reminds me of a really disturbing part of a Clifford book in which Clifford the Big Red Dog gets a little tiny pet robot dog that he smashes by accident. There is something scary about this big, well-meaning animal that can just squish stuff without meaning to. He's about *this close* to destroying things without really even knowing it. Which reminds me of America. And marching bands. Which is different than the straw-dog concept I guess in that the danger of this big puppy is that not intentional, but the straw-dog idea is more ominous in being intentional. But I really like the idea of a huge dog, even if he may or may not smash you by accident.

He looks so harmless here, doesn't he?

My conclusion: I need to paint literal straw dogs. :) What would that even look like? Or maybe I need to paint enormous, oversized, possibly dangerous dogs.

Maybe what I think is dangerous is that it is dangerous to love something. Because it could, indeed, be smashed.

Also. . . on another tangentially-related note: Looking through Clifford stuff makes me remember that the death of a pet is often the first experience with death that children have, and that many many books deal with the death of a pet. So as I continue to explore death (Old Yeller? Where the Red Fern Grows? Saddest stories ever. . . .) perhaps I need to keep thinking about how dogs related to that. Not that I want them to, because I like them much better alive.