A Thousand Words

Two nights ago I got up and performed at a local open mic here in called "Thundering Word Heard." It's always exhilarating and nerve-wracking to get up in front of an audience and perform, but the thrill is in conquering one's stage fright to override the natural trepidation involved in standing in front of a group of strangers who have given you their undivided attention while you regale them with songs or poetry.
I prefer to hide behind my music when I'm on stage though because speaking or reciting words is a bit like performing naked. It leaves you much more exposed and vulnerable to the audience's scrutiny. Luckily, the audience was pretty encouraging and appreciative as it tends to be at events like this. However, I couldn't help but notice the line-drawn in the sand between the separate cliques of the spoken word poets and the musicians and I sense there is a bit of a snobbery by those who call themselves spoken word artists towards musicians or singer/songwriters. As if their form -- undistilled language itself -- is so much more pure, authentic and "important" than music.
I've always felt this sense of inferiority for my visual art and musical skills and have been made to feel that these talents aren't "enough" in this culture that gives primacy to the word yet ironically, is much more immersed in visual imagery.
I think the word snobs perceive themselves as being the vigilant upholders of a dying linguistic form and of vitalizing language against the audacity of other forms such as visual art or music to demand equal respect. We are a very word-centered culture and I often feel that in order to be taken seriously, one must have an ability to communicate using articulate language no matter what discipline one practices. How often have we witnessed the painter or photographer relying on his/her "artist's statement" to promote his/her work? The text is given precedence over the created image or sound in some cases so much so that a forgettable exhibit of paintings or photographs is made indelible by the grandiose terminology surrounding it. It's as if non-text based media cannot be relied upon to be standalone without the help of text. The precedence that written or spoken language is given over other media comes as no surprise in a culture such as ours that is dominated by the impenetrable codes of legalese or the weighty circumlocutions of academics and politicians. A certain dignity -- a gravitas is awarded to writers that is never quite awarded to visual artists or musicians. Rarely does a piece of music or a painting or photograph require the same length of examination and critical consideration that a novel does. I am not rejecting the novel here, I believe the world would be in a sorry state without the existence of novels, but I am remarking on the prejudice that is shown to other disciplines, albeit it's fair to say that nowadays, that if one describes oneself as a "writer" they will find themselves in the company of other castoffs from other disciplines. Nobody in any creative discipline gets half the respect they might have been allotted a century ago. We are all, truly in it together.
It's always been a struggle for me to accept my "art." I was raised in a family that was very vocal and strongly favoured eloquence and sharp debating skills over more reflective and non-verbal forms of self-expression. I developed a skill in language as a self-defense. My brother on the other hand, went silent as a way of protesting the competitive verbal barrages that characterized our family's dinner environments. My mother valued proper diction and articulation so much so that she would become visibly irritated with anyone who mumbled or even paused during their speech. This often created a frustrating, adversarial environment in which respectful discussion gave way to emotional shouting matches very quickly.
It would be nice to be free of this need to feel validated through language - to have that sense of being respected for my non-verbal forms of expression, but as long as the people in power are the ones with the slickest grasp of how to use and, indeed, manipulate others to satisfy their own ends (with the exception of George Bush), then language will always prove to be the tool for real power and those with the words will be given the social status and attention that those without words can only dream of.
This is why I believe in the potential of the comix medium to use both text and images to work in tandem with each other to convey a story. The image resumes where the text leaves off and vice-versa.

The Monsters Among (within) us...

Fall is already nudging summer along here. I woke up to a rained-out Saturday with with damp, cool fall air after a week of going to work under solid blue skies
and high-temperatures. I was planning a camping excursion with some friends but of course, those plans had to be shelved. It's been a strange and shocking week as far as greater events are concerned. I'm specifically referring to the tragic and brutal stabbing and beheading incident aboard a Greyhound bus in Manitoba over a week ago. I haven't been so haunted or scared by a news story in a long time. The suddenness and random nature of it and the gruesome graphic accounts have really cast a pall of shock and disbelief both nationally and internationally. This is one of those incidents that is so senseless and so extreme that it has temporarily bypassed our jaded collective consciousness
and assaulted our comfortable sense of remove from isolated incidents of unleashed psychosis. The unnerving nature of this event reminds us of the underlying primitive, violent impulse that each of us possesses but few act upon. We, especially as Canadians, have always prided ourselves on our moderate and peaceful nature and then an episode of such unexplainable horror happens and contradicts this almost smug self-image that I think I've mentioned in previous blogs, is a rapidly becoming an outmoded delusion in the Canadian psyche. We've finally entered the big, dangerous world and in a sense, we've experienced a further fraying at the edges of our naivete. It's inevitable that an event like the beheading, has traumatized not only on the witnesses but by extension the entire populace here. There is a palpable psychic resonance from this event that has lingered in the last week. A public grief and shock that is almost the nail in the coffin to our innocence as a nation. Perhaps I've consumed too much media lately and I should disengage and find joy in the simpler moments of life but this doesn't preclude or erase the tremendous potential for evil and harm that exist in this world and more and more in the west where anti-social trends are marketed and sold to a spiritually-bankrupt demographic. We are awash in what some with a dubious grasp of reality and a literal grasp of biblical exhortation would describe as apocalyptic times, yet to convey this is to attract the suspicion of those in the intelligentsia who are skeptical of catch-all labels. It feels like there's this overhang of rage in our society right now and that it will express itself in more and more mentally-unbalanced individuals acting out in extreme ways. I think the threat of Islamic terrorism is one shade of many fanatical and angry groups or individuals. To illustrate my point, two radical groups tried to capitalize on the funeral of the victim of this Greyhound bus beheading. One was a U.S. based group of right-wing, fundamentalist lunatics who wanted to cross the border to picket the funeral insisting that the murder was God's retribution to Canada for it's liberal policies vis-a-vis gay marriage and abortion. This logic is so irrational and offensive that a hate group like this so-called "Church" are morally equivalent to the perpetrator of this dastardly crime. Another radical fringe group PETA exploited this event as an opportunity to compare the stabbing, beheading and defiling of the victim as similar to the butchering of animals for food. It's ironic how an organization like this could show such tasteless, callous inhumanity in protesting the inhumanity shown towards animals. Who are these vile and detestable groups? They have been allowed to flower in our culture of permission and tolerance. We can always compare our system to China and feel good about it, yet there's always a dividend.
But to return to the point. A horrible event like this always offers up proof that civilization is merely a varnish for our much darker and violent impulses.

The Wild West

I'm feeling quite tired now as I sit here on an uncomfortable chair trying to distill the effects of encroaching insanity that the western world has descended into. Today, I found myself nodding in agreement when I came across the hi-lights of a speech given by the British Tory leader about the decline of "core values in Britain" and the resultant culture of moral "neutralism," blame and entitlement.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2008/jul/08/davidcameron.glasgoweast
The success of Conservatives in exploiting this "achilles heel" of the left is because the left refuses to modify its position and to concede that there is some kernel of truth in the right's charge that maybe a good portion of the time individuals are responsible for their choices.
Obviously, the instinctive reaction by Cameron's critics would be to dismiss this as the usual, garden-variety, pandering politician rhetoric that is most of the time a well-deserved criticism. But, there are some rare moments when political leaders - from whatever end of the spectrum - reveal a little backbone with the knowledge that they might offend a segment of potential voters with an uncomfortable truth -- no matter how much it seems a calculated sound-bite lacking in rigourous academic substance. These comments, at least "appear" to be refreshingly honest for a political leader in a western liberal democracy. Anyone who is willing to brave the censorious wrath of the politically correct dogmatists deserves some respect.

There was a time when I would have been loathe to even remotely align myself with what might be considered more conservative views, so I have to wonder if this has snuck up on me and caught me unawares? Or is it a willingness to be more objective in my perspective and less rigidly fixed to one position?
I would hesitate to classify myself as drifting towards the right when it's more like I'm experiencing the effects of political relativity. I don't think I've changed by degrees, but on some issues I find myself landing firmly on either one side of the fence or the other. Hence my sudden realization that I have grown distant from some of my more previously quixotic notions as I've accumulated life experience. I think the west is sprouting fissures under the weight of too much moral relativism and the extremes of behaviour and mass psychosis that are accepted as the daily societal norm nowadays. I think this is as much a product of our society's rejection of moderation and both the cultural left and right are equally as guilty of contributing to this. A good friend of mine who is a student of the times, believes our descent into social anarchy stems from the "spoiled ethos of the baby boomer generation" and it's "religion of relativism" that no longer hold any beliefs to be in inherently valid or (invalid) any more than any others and thus, not surprisingly, a disconnected, spectating public indulges in blase narcissism. The tagline for this age could be the "it's all good age." Pass the bong or the pill or the remote control and disengage because after all, there is no set of beliefs to commit to anymore.

Of course, if you are foolish enough to be raw and exposed to all of this, you'll quickly realize that it "isn't all good" and this kind of facile, dismissive mentality is dangerous not just for its ignorance but for it's incapability to discern, evaluate or recognize consequences. With our disconnect from moral outcomes, we are permitting the continuous erosion of standards and with this, the inevitable sinking into barbarism. I still believe that western society has a foundation of liberalism and the rule of law that is the envy of the world and I know that this sentiment would not endear me to those who've been indoctrinated in cultural studies degrees who can only see through the revisionist lens - one that condemns the west as the exclusive perpetrator of colonial oppression and that this somehow negates the liberal, enlightenment traditions without which, we wouldn't have progressed enough to have this debate in the first place.

Ironically, this is a case of the snake eating its tail. We have evolved our institutions to the point where we are self-destructing. Some would cheer on our hasty demise, but I feel much more cautionary about this. Label me a reactionary, but I think this is a lazy, short-cut for people who don't want to examine their own issues and ideological positions for fear of conceding that the other side, just might have a point.

Canada Day (or Dark Night)

Amid the benign feel good cheer of Canada Day (July 1) here in Vancouver, a "police incident" snarled bridge traffic for six hours, preventing people from getting to their Canada Day destinations. I spent my Canada Day stuck on a sweaty, overcrowded bus for almost two hours while it slowly inched along in traffic to cross over the other main bridge where traffic was diverted. The inconvenience of being caught up in the sweltering gridlock on a holiday no less, aroused the ire and indignation of many -- and I belonged to those ranks.

I usually make a weekly pilgrimage across the water to visit my father who is in a care home with the late stages of Parkinson's and dementia. My objective was to get over to see him in time to feed him his dinner - knowing how special this day was to him in better times. What occurred to me after the fact was how selfish and apathetic we are as a nation. Although the reasons that would compel a person to hurl themselves over a bridge are manifold, and my heart goes out to someone who is in so much pain that they would attempt this, the distraught "would be suicide" victim inadvertently made a resoundingly selfish statement by choosing such a day to threaten to end it all. Maybe that was the point -- to piss off as many strangers as possible in order to defiantly tell the world to "screw itself." I don't think that it was that calculated though. As much as I surprised myself at feeling more anger than sympathy, I think that my reserves of compassion weren't as tapped out as those of others judging from the blogsopheres I visited afterwards.

I read alot of threads about the bridge closure incident and most of the people who posted their two-cents worth proudly indulged in the most callous and mean-spirited remarks about the "jumper." While I initially found myself drifting towards the consensus, I soon after realized that I had become an eager, sadistic participant in this spectacle of the jeering, resentful mob.

The anger at the delay was legitimate, but the comments on various blogs after the fact revealed a sick and cruel public mentality that has unfortunately become the norm here in Canada. It revealed the increasingly hostile and ugly interior that hides beneath the celebratory exterior of our national holiday.

The spate of tasteless and offensive comments about the would-be suicide jumper is yet another wearying testament to the brute insensitivity that is pervading our public discourse (if we can even call it "discourse"). It seems the web technology is the modern day bathroom stall --- where anyone can anonymously scrawl the most hateful garbage and get away with it. I realize I have a tendency to avoid the rose coloured glasses syndrome, but I sincerely sense that Canadians are not the enlightened, pleasant, tolerant people that we brag about being. We are in fact, becoming crass, short-sighted, amoral and self-centered. Another perfect example of this mass psychosis is the public's outrage at having to pay the carbon tax here. Some SUV-driving, smug-asshole feels violated by having to pay a bit extra at the pumps in order to offset the CO2 that his guzzling hulk emits and he gets all up in arms and cries foul. We don't want to sacrifice anything in order to do what's necessary for the long term. We are a nation of spoiled, impatient, self-interested whiners with an arrogant sense of entitlement and an addiction to the quick-fix.

It is no surprise that the people who were legitimately celebrating Canada Day --- who really embodied the meaning and tradition of this country -- were the new Canadians who were out in full force, proudly waving their flags, humble and hopeful.

Intersection: Or Permanent Transience

I'm seated here in front of the cafe window looking out onto the intersection in one of those semi-gentrified character neighbourhoods that is common to any urban setting in North America.

    I just bought a laptop and was anxious to try it out at a wireless cafe.  I thought that it would free me up from the sense of isolation I feel when I do my online business at home but it's not that dramatic a change from sitting in my room confined to the gaze of the monitor. The difference is that this feels much more "public" and "performative."  In fact, I feel alot more self-conscious and a lot less low key than I had hoped.  There's a bit of a fashionable "show" aspect to all of this that makes me a bit uncomfortable. On the other hand, it's about as close as I can get to being openly engaged in my surround.  I'm plugged in without being hidden away in a room, I can be totally immersed in some online activity and then look up and immediately observe -- almost partake in -- the flux and energy of the street.  There are two young women next to me -- one is giving the other a tutorial on downloading music.   They are very involved in this, so much so that setting and place seem incidental to their concentrated discussion about using Limewire.  They are as connected as they are disconnected it would seem.

   I observe the pure physics of the intersection in front of me -- cyclists veering around S.U.V.'s,  the young and defiant striding across on a red to show their disdain for rules, the shifting, gliding confluence of traffic and pedestrians all in a constant motion.  Every few minutes the Skytrain rumbles past above it all as if in a timed interval to this orchestration of humans and cars.  

  Attractive collegiate women are escorted by their swaggering, primally-charismatic, male companions.  Here in this intersection of reality, the rules never change.  A  predictable set of  relationships steadily evolved over millennia plays itself once more in a permanent transience, entirely faithful to the laws of physics and attraction.   The world of the internet allows for a much more gravity-defying identity, where the internet "geek" enjoys the power and confidence that eludes him in the tangible limitations of physical reality.  

 

Man Overboard.

Wednesday, 05/09/11


It’s 4 a.m. my sleeping schedule is out-of-alignment again. I just woke up from a nightmare in which I was aboard a large, passenger ferry and I witnessed a man attempt suicide by jumping off into the frigid waters below. As in so many dreams, I was more of a spectator than a participant, I felt like I was watching this incident unfold from a comfortable remove, as if it were film or television. Within moments the alarms sounded and the ferry came to a halt and a rescue vessel was sent out to retrieve the drowning man. When he was being helped aboard later, someone out of nowhere, approached him and said something to the effect of “you should have asked me to help you with the deed” and then produced a pistol and shot him dead. While the assailant stood there gloating in the immediate instant after shooting him, another person walked up to the first assailant and proceeded to shoot him. In the dream, I was the unwitting bystander, forced to observe the dramatic playing-out of a circle of vendettas. The dream continued and as if it cinematic cut, it was suddenly nightfall and presumably, this was the same journey. There was a group of passengers gathered in the seating area, it looked like they were watching a movie or some form of entertainment, they seemed quite transfixed by whatever it was. I was somewhere amongst them and I noticed through the windows surrounding separating the seating area from the outside deck, three ghostly apparitions looking in through the windows at the focus of entertainment inside. I assume that the three “ghosts” were the recently deceased. It was at that moment that I felt that racing, primal fear and then woke up.
I could interpret this nightmare on so many levels of my psyche. The usual themes of inescapable mortality and the nature of the spectacle mostly come to mind.
The suicidal passenger’s deathwish gets fulfilled, but quite unexpectedly. He decided to act on his intention only to be rebuffed by death and then moments later, the deed is finished. A heavy-dose of existential irony to be sure. Also a conceivably religious metaphor that underscores the brazen arrogance of us humans in the face of divine plan.
The second and perhaps just as fascinating issue I visited in this dream was the voyeuristic experience of violence and death. I recently read an article in the July issue of Harper’s about how we as a collective, are being subjected to what the author describes as “vio-porn” or the pornification of violence. What this loosely means is that we - in the role of spectators – are over-saturated with witnessing acts of violence through popular media so much so that through this de-sensitization process, we derive a perverse thrill at the tragic misfortune of others – simulated or real. This in turn hardens us to feelings of compassion or any kind of human ethic. I don’t think these charges are too strong, I think they are honest evaluations of the wider social alienation that’s engulfing us and threatening to undo our civilization.
Hollywood producers have latched onto a formula that works, it’s in their interests to fuel, to placate our increasing appetite to consume all forms of brutality and depravity that are manifestations of are darkest impulses. Courtesy my roommate and his DVD collection, I’ve recently been “catching” up on the television and movies I missed when I was away in Taiwan for four years. While most of what constitutes his DVD library doesn’t attract a mainstream audience, a good portion of is popular amongst a sizeable demographic and so it presumes that the audience has a high-tolerance threshold for graphic language, violence and nudity. What I’ve found surprising is how much more harsh and extreme even smart t.v. drama has become in order to stay alive in the ratings game. I think that this nightmare was a sort of filtering process for the amount of simulated violence I’ve seen recently, but it’s also a filtering process for the news media that I consume – the reportages of the body count in Iraq, wrought by natural disasters or in my part of the world where just yesterday a family shooting took place in what the news described as a “respectable” suburb. Why is it no surprise that all of this has a cumulative impact? Why are we shocked when we hear of incidents in which a shooting takes place and the perpetrator was only sixteen? The coarsening of attitudes and the de-sensitization to violence are combining to instill mass psychopathy in our collective behaviour. This form of psychopathy (which I’m loosely using and not to be understood in the clinical definition thereof) takes its form in small and apparently non-threatening ways – from the aggressive pan-handler who shoves an old man, to the corporate executive who embezzles money from his own company. These are all symptomatic behaviours of individuals who actively ignore the consequences of their actions or for how those actions might effect others. This aberration is more commonly recognizable in our youth, which has been made crass and anti-social as result of being sold a seductively cool form of street-cred fashion. I may sound like a fulminating old man here, but no matter how one might dismiss my concern as being generational, the rebellion of today’s youth is all form without substance and devoid of creativity and politically unconscious – a marketer’s dream.
Much of what I’ve written here is a given. We can all identify the usual culprits – mass media being the leading one. Therefore, how can one frame this debate in a more invigorating or novel way? Is it possible we’re becoming jaded to our own reality to such an extent that active engagement and meaningful response are futile in the face of the onslaught of excess in our culture? Are we too cynical – too busy – to register a passing notice?