Dylan AHV Blog

On Friday, I spent a good amount of time looking at the two Runquist murals, trying to view them from both sides of the potential controversy. My first impression was one of awe. Seeing the murals on a computer screen does not give justice to the experience of looking at the paintings in person. The tree that seems to grow alongside the evolution of humanity towers above the viewer and provides a physical experience of being made to feel insignificant against the accumulative expanse of human history.  My mind instantly reverted back to a few things Ellen Dissayunake said in her address, “Art for Life’s Sake.” She describes the human propensity to “make special” the world around them through art (22). Originally, on looking at the two murals, that was how I saw both of them. They both seemed to me to be an artist’s attempt to capture everything that education meant to them: the work over years and years to develop and evolve and grow as an entire civilization. I know very little about the Runquists, but the murals gave me the sense that the two brothers were trying to find a way in which to beautify a place of learning and encapsulate meaning into what education is all about. I could not find malice or purposeful insensitivity in the murals, but I did notice the obvious lack of diversity in the murals and took time to ponder that issue carefully.

When Erika Doss describes controversy in art, she says, “Plenty of controversies have, in fact, generated meaningful conversations about public culture” (6). The controversy over the Runquist murals seems to be one of those types of controversies. It is a discussion on the cultural milieu of our past versus that of today, and whether or not it is acceptable to appreciate artwork from the past that goes against the modern view of the world. Personally, I am not sure that this example of that discussion provides the best opportunity to discuss both sides. Though the lack of diversity is noticeable in our day of age, there is nothing in the mural that I see as explicitly derogatory. For me, the conversation becomes: does the benefits of having the mural (including the meaning expressed, the historical significance, and the beautification) outweigh the potential offenses of the piece of art. As a white male, it is hard for me to quantify the potential for offense in the mural, but I do honestly feel that the piece has more to say about the good things in human history than it offends by its lack of diversity. When the murals are put into the context of their time, the absence of racial and gender diversity is more representative of the place of the world in the 1930’s than anything. When discussing controversy, Doss says that the people of the United States deal with a conflict with “the national ideal… an equitable, unified and rational democracy,” but that that ideal often “yields to reality” (6). The reality is that the past of the United States was white and male dominated, but the benefits of the beautiful art should not be dismissed because it reflects former American ideals.

Public art is an accessible way to connect generations of people to their past. It does create a sense of identity in a community and it gives a place a historical meaning. The Runquist murals find a way to associate the work being done in the Knight Library today, my work and the work of my peers, with the great historical achievements of this University and of humanity in general. I understand controversies and that any kind of art created through public funds has the potential to offend a portion of the public. Those people may feel that the art represents a government demeaning that portion of its citizens. However, I feel as educated people, we have the ability to use the art for something more than just art and that is why public art, in the face of every single person, is necessary.

Ten words: (top to bottom and left to right)
Expression, Perspective, Passion
Creative, Imagination, Serenity, Spirituality
Change, Love, Talent

As both an aspiring writer and musician, I have often thought about the implications of copyright law, especially in the terms of digitalized music. Obviously, there is a part of me that dreams of becoming a part of what Lessig calls the “RO” world, in which case, I want my creations to be protected (2008, 84). However, I have always felt that amateurs are restricted in absurd ways by the extent to which the copyright law cracks down on attempts to explore established pieces of art. Even if this “remixing” is seen as “derivative” (2008, 91), Lessig provides a perfect example, using his experiences at Goethe Institute to show why it is important to experience that remixing (2008, 92). Even in my own experiences, remixing has been crucial. My first attempt at a short story was a blatant rip-off of Flannery O’Conner and I used a Dandy Warhols chord progression to write my first ever original song. Since then, I have only grown as a writer and a musician, but they were important stepping stones for my possible career and growth. Maybe I raise the same questions Lessig does when I ask whether copyright laws only prevent the growth of young artists. What is really at stake if copyright laws continue to expand? What is more important, the cultivation of new, educated young artists, or the assurance that every single replication of a piece of art is attributed back (especially monetarily) to the original creator?

In Beverly Jones’s essay, “Computer Graphics: Effects of Origins,” she tracks the history of the computer’s influence on art and argues that as it grows, it will require the unification of multiple fields to reach its potential as an art form. She uses examples of how the separation of fields has limited art and then lists other types of innovations that found ways to combine multiple sciences. One early example of computer animation was a piece called Stained Glass Windows by a team from the Army Ballistics Research Laboratory. This was a team of researchers, not trained with any artistic background. In fact, at the time, the divide between aesthetics and technological research even made it so that the use of color was only an aesthetic choice and never used for practical purposes (1990, 23).

She later describes the issues with separated fields once computer graphics became a more complex art form, finding a place in feature length films. For example, in early films, artists were not able to recreate the variation in human movement, instead creating movement that “was smooth and lacked variety” (1990, 26). Again, this was because artists, computer scientists, and other scientists had not yet figured out how to combine their skills to put together the best possible product. Jones also cites how the worlds created by computer artists were designed to “look real,” but sometimes lacked scientific reality concerning laws of physics and optics (1990, 28) In order for this creation to be the most realistic, all these sciences should come together and harness the technology.

Towards the end, Jones makes sure to give examples of how past advances in science were able to unite different factions. She talks about how Gödel, Einstein, and Heisenberg all combined to bring “relativity and contextuality to the physical sciences” (1990, 29). Their advances, when put together, allowed for all of the physical sciences to move forward, and the computer sciences can be equally benefitted by advances by artists and researches of all varieties working together.

At the time of writing this article, I doubt that Beverly Jones could ever foresee the computer advances that society has made today. When Jane McGonigal talks about the way that video games can help change the world in her presentation for TED.com, she is referring to a complex computerized world where the world is aesthetically realistic, but also able to adapt and react to real world human decisions (2010). The reasons she thinks they can be useful is because they so closely reflect the real world. These advancements are due to the cohesive effort of all kinds of scientists to replicate the “scientific reality” of the world.

Because everyone has worked together to the point that this replication is possible, computer animation has inarguable become an art. Jones questions where this art comes from, if it is original or if it all a copy, but I think that it is apparent that the combination of all the forces of scientists and artists produces a thrilling and beautifully constructed aesthetic experience.

Jones, B. J. (1990). Computer Graphics: Effects of Origins. LEONARDO: Digital Image – Digital Cinema Supplemental Issue, pp. 21-30.

McGonigal, J. (2010): Gaming can make a better world. TED: Ideas worth spreading. Retrieved November 24, 2013, from http://www.ted.com/talks/jane_mcgonigal_gaming_can_make_a_better_world.html

Early in her essay, Beverly Jones, cites examples from multiple forms of media to show that as technology advances, there is a tendency to “cast developing forms of material and symbolic culture in previous modes” (1990, p.1). This means that even though society is moving forward, humans like to take old styles and put them into the new in an attempt to hold on to the integrity of the art. In her description of the development of computer graphics, she provides instances of similar things, like the use of color imposed over computerized designs to create “aesthetic imagery” (1990, p.3), even though the production was done by engineers and technicians. However, a question remains whether the growing culture of mass production can in any way diminish the influence of art. Though artists are breaking new ground in the ways they can use computers to produce fresh, experimental art (1990, p.5), does the use of computers, which can create millions of reproductions instantaneously, corrupt the integrity of other forms of physical art?

How do you define spirituality?

For me, spirituality is a deeper understanding and coming to peace with one’s place in the world. Spirituality connects humanity, both through time and across cultures. This is why religion has such an enormous impact on our world, because people are always searching for something to unify them and give them a place of belonging. For many of us, spirituality is found in things outside of religion, but it always has to be something that can answer life’s hardest questions and connect people in need of sharing in the human experience. Art is one of those things that allow people to find meaning in life and share that meaning with other people, eliciting the kind of emotions that can only be found in that kind of other-worldly realm.

Does Spirituality differ from religion?

Yes. Religion is a venue for spirituality to be obtained but they are not the same thing. In my blog post, I called making music “a religious experience,” and I meant that in creating, I am able to connect to the world and find answers that are similar to those answers that people seek when they find religion. Of course, if someone were to make the argument that music is a religion or that types of philosophies are religions then the line is blurred a little bit. However, I tend to define religion as requiring a god and answering questions about what happens after life.

How do you define creativity?

Creativity is the ability to express oneself in a way that is novel. I tend to consider something truly creative if the product can encompass the experience of others as well. The ability to take something personal and have it resonate with multiple people is a special kind of talent. The most creative people can make the most mundane and normal life experiences feel special, much in the way Ellen Dissayunake describes as crucial to art.

What is the source of creativity?

I do believe that a great deal of creativity is inborn. People have to have some innate ability to take experience and express it, or else they will never be able to be creative. I think the people with the best potential for creativity also have a great deal of spirituality and empathy for others. It is also crucial to understand oneself, which can be a problem. Too many people are not quite in touch with their own feelings to be able to connect those feelings with other people.  Furthermore, if a person can only understand themselves and feels disconnected with the world around them, it is more difficult for them to create that type of connection. In the end, creativity comes from life and understanding everything that comes with sharing this planet with other people.

I think each of the artists in the Art:21 presentation finds a way to use a spiritual tradition and manipulate it in a way that brings about personal spirituality. When I was watching this presentation, and having read the reading, I thought about my spirituality when expressing myself through my art. The painter, Shahzia Sikander, said about her art, “the sheer act of doing it gives [her] peace” (2003). As a musician and a writer, I connected to this sentiment, because I feel like I get a religious experience out of expressing myself through my art. Each of the other artists seem to find this kind of experience in what they do as well, and the act of putting that experience into art is the “translation” portion of the creative process (Grey, 2001, 75). For some of these artists, like John Feodorov and Shahzia Sikander, their religious experience is a product of exploring a combination of religions and discovering how a meaning can be pulled out of both cultures.

But I think the main point of the video presentation is that spirituality can be found all over art. It does not necessarily have to be a product of exploring religious traditions. Art itself can act as a religion of its own, and artists can find spirituality in exploring the artistic elements of the natural world. Ann Hamilton found it in the way the thin stream of water reacted to her manipulations and James Turrell found it with light and his crater.

O’Brien, L. (2013, September 9). The Curious Appeal of Horror Movies: Why do we like to feel scared? IGN, Retrieved from http://www.ign.com/articles/2013/09/09/the-curious-appeal-of-horror-movies

Lucy O’Brien begins her article questioning how horror films continue to succeed at the box office. She writes mostly about the recent horror film, The Conjuring, which, despite opening at the same time as major blockbuster, Man of Steel, grossed over $240 million worldwide. She quickly refutes the idea that it is based on story line, citing that its plot is “not historically abnormal” (O’Brien, 2013). However, she then analyzes reasons in which horror does have unique mass appeal.

For O’Brien, horror is a way for people to confront the unusual. She believes that horror films allow us to feel catharsis at having “survived a brief brush with something dark and unexpected” (O’Brien, 2013). However, she makes sure to identify what makes horror films more appealing than non-fictional danger: they are inherently safe. In the readings for this chapter, Carroll discusses the curiosity of the audience, wondering “whether [the existence of monsters] will be confirmed in the story” (2002, 278). What O’Brien has to say about the viewer exploring fictional danger seems to be a product of Carroll’s ideas on curiosity. We watch horror films to experience the dark underbelly of our world, and prove to ourselves that we can endure that darkness.

Quoting Warren Ellis, O’Brien explains “fiction is how we both study and de-fang our monsters” (O’Brien, 2013). This idea suggests that we need horror films to deal with real world horrors that we are forced to deal with every day. Horror then is a coping mechanism for us to survive, and if we can survive two hours of the evilest of monsters at the theatre or in a book, then we feel better prepared to survive real horrors.

Begley, S. (2011, October 25). Why Our Brains Love Horror Movies. The Daily Beast. Retrieved from http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2011/10/25/why-our-brains-love-horror-movies-fear-catharsis-a-sense-of-doom.html

Like Lucy O’Brien, Sharon Begley writes her article to explore the success of horror movies, especially horror movies with small budgets like Paranormal Activity, at the box office. She discusses why teenagers seem to seek thrills from horror films more than older generations, explaining that they “feel that real life is scary enough” (Begley, 2011). Begley touches on the idea of a cathartic experience, but argues that there seems to be much more at play than just the feelings of emotional catharsis, but rather a venue for young people to manage their terror.  She mentions that horror films tend to abide by a strict Victorian code, where teenage sex is almost always met with by death, and endings are normally happy.

Begley believes that, ultimately, horror films play on our knowledge of our impending doom. We all know we are going to die, but horror films dangle that fact, one that nobody likes to think about, in audiences’ faces. But Begley, like O’Brien, points out that audiences can be confronted with death, knowing that they will leave the theatre without “any holes in our head, and our hearts will still be in our bodies” (Begley, 2011).

The article also suggests that perhaps horror is appealing because it “traffics in ‘thoughts and feelings that have been repressed by the ego’” (Begley, 2011). In the History on Horror presentation, one of the things that are described as possibly appealing is horror’s ability to help the viewer “discover the possibility of something creepy within [themselves]” (2009). There is something eerie and invigorating about exploring our darkest thoughts and feelings, and horror provides us the vehicle to do so.

In this episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was particularly drawn to the use of non-diegetic sound through mood music. One thing the episode does particularly well is use pacing to create the mood. In high tense moments, the music begins to speed up, with more orchestral runs, simulating the quickening of the heart beat and the raise in stakes for the characters. In lower moments, the music slows and the audience is given time to breathe. In addition, the mood music plays with pitch to play with the mood. Notes increase in pitch and chords become more unharmonious in moments of high risk. During happier moments, the music becomes more melodic with lower base notes in the chords. This contrast distinguishes moments of imminent tension from moments where the audience can relax.

The most noticeable strategy of diegetic sound found in this episode is the use of creaking, sirens, and other interrupting sounds to break the lulls of silence. There is a moment early on where a glass is dropped and it shatters. This sudden disruption is an example of the chaotic environment that the characters are forced to live in. This feeling is also established with sirens and dogs barking in the background when characters are roaming around in this state of silence. The creaking plays an important role in giving a feeling of deterioration and the world seems to be decaying into total chaos.

The mise-en-scene choice made in the episode that I thought had the most important effect on the overall mood was the utilization of hallways. Many times we find the characters stuck in confined hallways where there seems to be only one way to go and no escape. This assists in making the audience also feel confined, victim to the voice-stealing vampires that now seem to have complete control over the audience as well. The hallways also have an interesting ability to produce long shadows and weird lighting.

All of this contributes to the horror by forcing the audience into a confined and chaotic environment. Anyone watching the scene can feel the monsters coming for them, while they see no way of escaping. Meanwhile, the music speeds and notes become more discordant, creating a sense of danger and random chaotic diegetic sounds portray a world where order is falling apart.

Throughout my life, I never gave much attention to what I wore. Coming from a small school and small town, I never needed to stand out and so comfort and practicality was my number one priority. However, looking back on my life with this chapter in mind, I can see ways in which my dress reflected my personal values. In high school and even in college, I only wear t-shirts, except for in formal occasions. I never wore polos or any other kind of casual collared shirt. If I was not wearing basketball sweats or shorts, I wore jeans or cargo shorts. Mostly, this was because they were comfortable and practical. In addition, I took pride in wearing my tennis shoes until they literally started falling apart. My only clothing decision that was particularly individual was that I wore knee-high socks every day of high school and until my sophomore year of college. On one hand, I liked the way the socks fit around my shins, but there was another side of me that enjoyed having something that was completely unique. I started wearing them for basketball games and it became a habit.

All of my clothing choices are representative of my frugality and my belief that money should be spent on qualitative improvements and not superficial ones. In fact, I vividly remember going shoe shopping and looking for the most cheaply priced shoe. When people I knew spent a ridiculous amount of money on clothes, part of me would actually get angry. Friend would buy $100 shoes and I would think that the only explanation was vanity. My dress also represented my desire not to be linked it with any clique. I was an athlete with athlete friends, but I wore Monty Python t-shirts and dressed a little bit like a dork. I was equal parts athlete, academic, activist, and artist and I never wanted to dress in a way that gave one of my many sides did not take precedence. Once I came to college, I was no longer known like I was in my small hometown, where being an athlete and musician gave me big fish status. However, my dress has not changed much, and if anything has become even more casual and straight-laced. Even more, I do not stand out because I do not necessarily want attention. In fact, even as a singer, I have yet to do anything on stage to stand out. I do not like tattoos or piercings, and I like dressing haphazardly: throwing on a shirt, some pants, putting on my old shoes and going out. As C.R. Sanders says in his first sentence, “A person’s physical appearance affects his or her self-definition, identity, and interaction with others” (1), and for me, I dressed the way I did so that my clothes would take a backseat to other things I thought I could offer.

I still am not sure how my dress was derived from my background. In ways, it can be attributed to where I grew up. Burns is two hours from the nearest shopping mall or clothes store so options were limited. My parents instilled in me a strong sense of responsibility and, even though they encouraged individuality, they made sure I knew at a young age the difference between standing out and actually expressing myself. As cliché as it is, they stressed the importance of inner personality and it never seemed important to have to show off whom I was through my clothes. I was good enough at expressing myself in other ways. My mother disliked tattoos and excessive piercings, and I think we shared opinions that having to rely on those kinds of things was an easy way out of having to develop an interesting personality. Now that I am older, there are tattoos and piercings that I like, and I think I am able to judge each individually for what they stand for. No one in my immediate family dresses differently than I do. Of course, my sister is more fashionable, but even for her, practicality and frugality or more important than appearing to stand out.

As a creative writer, I have often joked that to be a good writer, you must wear a sweater, horned-rimmed glasses, a scarf, and either a fedora or a beret. For some reason, this is a look that my peers associate with thoughtfulness, deep thinking, and intelligence. It is the common day “hipster” look, but it isn’t trying to be ironic as much as it seems to be to fit the part of a writer. I guess I do not think a person can dress intelligently or thoughtfully, but the appeal to other cultures and the colorless garb seems to represent the seriousness and worldliness that a writer is supposed to have.

All in all, I do not think I have ever used my dress to fit in with my peer groups or to assimilate to outside pressures. Still, even in dressing in a way so that my clothes do not define me, it shows off my values. I want to be undefinable and so my clothes are mismatched and put on without much thought, yet they still are clothes I like to wear and that I buy purposefully. So, in the end, my clothes give room for my personality to stand out.