Kane Kwei s is a Ghanian artist (1924-1992) who creates coffins that represent important aspects of the deceased in life. For instance, for a fisherman he might make a fish-shaped coffin. His coffins are found in collections all over the world. I would like to focus on his works in the United States while comparing how his works are used and viewed elsewhere, particularly Ghana.
To research for this there are a few places to look. I already have a book ordered on Melcat that features an essay on Kwei. Oxford Art Online has an article about him, but there isn’t a lot of academic stuff on him, so I will also need to use reviews of his exhibits online.
Kane Kwei’s art certainly speaks to life and death, and also the utility of art. I will discuss whether or not Oscar Wilde would have valued Kwei’s coffins (probably not) and why American society values them. At Kwei’s workshop in Ghana, the coffins are shown together, being worked on by many people. In the United States, they are displayed completely on their own and obviously not being used for their intended purpose. I would like to discuss how this changes the meaning and what it says about the culture of death in the United States. A potential thesis is: Kane Kwei’s coffins in the context of the United States show the incredible fascination death holds for Americans, and how our culture glamorizes and fetishizes death, as compared to Ghanian culture, which celebrates it.
OR!
“The Jersey Shore” is a reality television show that follows eight people brought together for the summer in the New Jersey shore to work in a t-shirt shop, party, socialize, and get into trouble. The eight characters represent Italian-American stereotypes in an over-the-top way that has caught the attention of the United States in a sensational manner.
Since its release, many people have written about “The Jersey Shore”. I would like to examine why the Jersey Shore characters in particular appeal so much to the American people. How the people on the show are portrayed is meant to be ridiculous and invite comment. What do these people make us discuss? What issues about our society bring up? They certainly show how much we like to examine/insult people different from us. They also attack the moral underpinning of the nation and show how easy it is to “unpin” it. Group identity is important here: these “guidos” and “guidettes” are inhabitants of American culture but are not mainstream. Were they made mainstream by the show? I would like to explore all of these questions and attempt to answer them.
A possible thesis is: “The Jersey Shore” shows Americans yet another facet of society that they might not be familiar with; it lays bare the material, judgmental, base aspect of our lives...and shows us how important those attributes are to our sense of identity as a group and how we treat the “other”.
For resources, the television show will serve as a primary source while the many online blogs and criticisms will help as well.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Pauline Kael: Questions and Answers
Pauline Kael liked to ask questions—and answer them. As a weekly columnist, she was able to disseminate her ideas to a varied readership. Kael was given an outlet where others could access her work and love it (or not) and became arguably the most famous literary critic. Her life story is tinged with tragedy, but the lasting legacy of Pauline Kael is her writing—Oscar Wilde would be proud of her contributions to art.
Strong writers elicit reactions. Kael’s excessive use of words like, “swallowing”, “pissing”, “flatulence”, or “manure,” condemned by Renata Adler in “House Critic,” are an important part of her repertoire. Kael is not, as Adler bemoans in “House Critic”, “mistaking lack of civility for vitality,” rather she is displaying her idiosyncratic way of writing. In “Afterglow” she says, “...I loved lowbrow taste, and that was hard to get across. One of the great things about movies is that they can combine the energy of a popular art with the possibilities of a high art.” By combining the language of “high” art and adding her own “lowbrow” sensibility in creating her pieces, Kael is reflecting what she is reviewing while doing something new—challenging the United States’ “movie critic” speak, with its words that indicate condescension even before one considers their actual meaning or what they say.
Following Kael’s commentary on actors is like being there when she meets them in person. She might not have the most refined things to say about them—Renata Adler quotes one of her articles on an actress, “She’s making love to herself,”—but manages to pinpoint what they are doing by close observation while connecting them to others and the rest of the world. She writes of Barbara Streisand in “Funny Girl,” “She conceals nothing; she’s fiercely, almost frighteningly direct,” and Kael could be talking about Streisand or perhaps even herself.
While loving or attacking actors might seem to be easy way to discuss a film, Kael goes further in her reviews. Often accused of “talking about anything but the film,” she points out cultural references and phenomena that movies reflect. This is arts journalism: instead of filling the basic functions of a review (information about the piece and where to see/find it, the reaction of the critic, and whether it is worth seeing), it both acknowledges other art and while creating a work of art in itself. For instance, she writes of “Hiroshima Mon Amour, “But what makes the dialogue crucial is that the audience...feels virtuous because they want to buy peace. And the question I want to ask is: who’s selling it?” By looking at larger issues that are inevitably entrenched in film culture, Kael is not ignoring movies she reviews but seeing them more deeply than many other critics.
In a world of art and people talking about it, not all voices have value. Why did Pauline Kael’s voice matter so much? She might have asked the same question (she was very fond of questions), but she would have an answer. Always sure of herself, combining lowbrow and “high” art, and reaching beyond movies to explore concepts of society, Pauline Kael’s contributions to art itself, no matter what the consequences to those she panned or raved, are considerable.
Strong writers elicit reactions. Kael’s excessive use of words like, “swallowing”, “pissing”, “flatulence”, or “manure,” condemned by Renata Adler in “House Critic,” are an important part of her repertoire. Kael is not, as Adler bemoans in “House Critic”, “mistaking lack of civility for vitality,” rather she is displaying her idiosyncratic way of writing. In “Afterglow” she says, “...I loved lowbrow taste, and that was hard to get across. One of the great things about movies is that they can combine the energy of a popular art with the possibilities of a high art.” By combining the language of “high” art and adding her own “lowbrow” sensibility in creating her pieces, Kael is reflecting what she is reviewing while doing something new—challenging the United States’ “movie critic” speak, with its words that indicate condescension even before one considers their actual meaning or what they say.
Following Kael’s commentary on actors is like being there when she meets them in person. She might not have the most refined things to say about them—Renata Adler quotes one of her articles on an actress, “She’s making love to herself,”—but manages to pinpoint what they are doing by close observation while connecting them to others and the rest of the world. She writes of Barbara Streisand in “Funny Girl,” “She conceals nothing; she’s fiercely, almost frighteningly direct,” and Kael could be talking about Streisand or perhaps even herself.
While loving or attacking actors might seem to be easy way to discuss a film, Kael goes further in her reviews. Often accused of “talking about anything but the film,” she points out cultural references and phenomena that movies reflect. This is arts journalism: instead of filling the basic functions of a review (information about the piece and where to see/find it, the reaction of the critic, and whether it is worth seeing), it both acknowledges other art and while creating a work of art in itself. For instance, she writes of “Hiroshima Mon Amour, “But what makes the dialogue crucial is that the audience...feels virtuous because they want to buy peace. And the question I want to ask is: who’s selling it?” By looking at larger issues that are inevitably entrenched in film culture, Kael is not ignoring movies she reviews but seeing them more deeply than many other critics.
In a world of art and people talking about it, not all voices have value. Why did Pauline Kael’s voice matter so much? She might have asked the same question (she was very fond of questions), but she would have an answer. Always sure of herself, combining lowbrow and “high” art, and reaching beyond movies to explore concepts of society, Pauline Kael’s contributions to art itself, no matter what the consequences to those she panned or raved, are considerable.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
NYT Defense: Manohla Dargis' Review of "Valentine's Day"
http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/02/12/movies/12valentine.html
This review by Manohla Dargis, co-chief film critic for The Times, is highly effective, especially given what it has to work with. The review holds true to the ideas of Oscar Wilde, that the critic is truly an artist whose work can transcend that of what it is reviewing.
Her opinion is strong, consistent and obvious from the first few words: “The best and really only sensible thing to say about the dire romantic comedy ‘Valentine’s Day,’ which is neither romantic nor remotely comedic, is that it makes you appreciate...the... basic competency...of ‘Love Actually,’ the ingratiating British movie it transparently and ineptly rips off.” The first sentence’s reference allows many readers to understand her more immediately. This is her “but,” located very early in the piece.
She describes each actor while pointing out the script’s weaknesses, pointing out how they are there to satisfy a certain demographic and gives no one much performance credit. She keeps the entire review brief, showing her disregard. Ending by comparing the film to “bad television” leaves the reader in little doubt of her opinion. She is harsh at the end: “...it’s grim, grim, grim. This might not be the Titanic of romantic comedies (it’s tugboat size), but it’s a disaster... But quick: there’s still time to escape!”
This review by Manohla Dargis, co-chief film critic for The Times, is highly effective, especially given what it has to work with. The review holds true to the ideas of Oscar Wilde, that the critic is truly an artist whose work can transcend that of what it is reviewing.
Her opinion is strong, consistent and obvious from the first few words: “The best and really only sensible thing to say about the dire romantic comedy ‘Valentine’s Day,’ which is neither romantic nor remotely comedic, is that it makes you appreciate...the... basic competency...of ‘Love Actually,’ the ingratiating British movie it transparently and ineptly rips off.” The first sentence’s reference allows many readers to understand her more immediately. This is her “but,” located very early in the piece.
She describes each actor while pointing out the script’s weaknesses, pointing out how they are there to satisfy a certain demographic and gives no one much performance credit. She keeps the entire review brief, showing her disregard. Ending by comparing the film to “bad television” leaves the reader in little doubt of her opinion. She is harsh at the end: “...it’s grim, grim, grim. This might not be the Titanic of romantic comedies (it’s tugboat size), but it’s a disaster... But quick: there’s still time to escape!”
Defense research
Here's an example of a far less effective review than the one that I will be doing my defense on...it reflects the material that it is reviewing, in a negative way.
http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1963839,00.html?xid=rss-topstories
http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1963839,00.html?xid=rss-topstories
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