2 Legit Lit

My opinions and assigned writings on all things literary, done Hammer-style.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Whitman, Levi's, Advertising, & Poetry

OR: Leaves of Ads? Ads of Grass? I got nothin'...

Aside from the fourth of July, nothing makes me feel more happy to be American than the first Sunday after Labor Day; the opening day of the NFL season (I refuse to admit that Thursday is now the opening day) when I typically spend the entire day watching (and reveling in) football. It was during one of these games when I saw the “America” Whitman ad for the first time, and I was floored at how awesome it was. I remember thinking at the time, “wow. This is a great ad, but I don’t think very many people are going to appreciate it.” The second “O Pioneers” ad is great too, but I’d like to focus on the “America” ad 1) because it uses the actual wax recording of Whitman reading his poem, and 2) because I saw it first and it elicited my initial “wow” response.


Levi’s ran the ad in order to cement itself as the quintessential American product, and by running it during the opening weekend of football, it also wanted cement itself as the quintessential product Americans are proud of. Companies like McDonald’s and Chevrolet may evoke “Americanism” more than Levi’s, but the quality of those companies’ products doesn’t necessarily evoke pride anymore. Levi’s associated itself with Whitman’s poetry (and by using the original wax recording, Whitman himself) and football, thus making it appeal to America’s sense of pride. In doing so, it makes Levi’s jeans seem traditional yet youthful, stylish yet functional, fashionable yet accessible. I have to say, as far as I’m concerned, no company has had a more effective ad campaign than Levi’s, with Nike and Old Spice tied for second.

Aside from the ad’s effectiveness, however, I’d like to point out where the imagery in the ad echoes the Whitman’s poetry in Leaves of Grass. First, we have the subjects in the commercial all comfortable with their bodies. As Whitman says in lines 49 and 50 of Leaves of Grass, “[w]elcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of every man hearty and clean. Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.” The people in the ad running, flipping, and flexing, seem to revel in their own bodies, exuding not only vitality, but a sense of comfortableness in their bodies and skin.

Second, we have this unifying sense that the poem/ad speaks to everyone. In the “America” ad, as Whitman says “centre of equal daughters, equal sons, all” the ad shows a young black girl in the inner city juxtaposed with an embattled CEO. The ad takes two Americans, seemingly on opposite ends of the racial/cultural/socioeconomic/age spectrum, and relates them to each other through Whitman’s words and the mood each is facing. This has the similar effect to Whitman’s “cataloging” from lines 257 to 346 of Leaves of Grass, as he lists all types of Americans in order to emphasize a uniting quality of the American spirit.

Finally, we have imagery of grass itself. The ad shows a young girl picking her way through waist high grass, two boys playing in grass obscured from view of two older men sitting in chairs, more boys running and flipping through tall grass, and a landscape pan over tall fields. These multiple images conjure Whitman’s parallel of grass and hope, as he writes in Leaves of Grass, “…What is the grass? […] I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven” (90-92). The director of the ad arguably encompasses the spirit of Whitman completely, and does so in only one minute.

A lot of people have commented on how the ads cheapen Whitman’s poetry and the American spirit, but I am not in that camp. I really have no problem with advertisements using artistic means of playing on a person’s ethos, pathos, or logos to convey a corporate image or to imply a feeling of happiness to be attained through purchasing a product or service. Consumerism, with all of its faults and qualities, is a fundamental part of American society. I feel it is a little presumptuous to label something as negative simply because it promotes capitalism.

I do, however, argue with the point made in the assigned blog reading which asserts that “[a]dvertising has taken up what Whitman thought was the poet’s job” (McCracken). While consumerism is a huge part of America, there is still an element of “untainted” spirit of the poet in American culture. I would argue that musicians, not advertising, have taken up the Whitman mantle. People like Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen, Kurt Cobain, and Tupac Shakur are the icons of American spirit, and while Cap’n Crunch and Mr. Clean may be just as famous as these musicians, the influence of certain songwriters is more of a driving force of cultural change than advertising. While advertising may be inherently American, music is where we see the inherent American spirit that Americans can be proud of. Advertising agencies are cultural mirrors, not, as McCracken claims, “the active inventors of American culture.”

Friday, February 19, 2010

Ruskin, Church, and Cotopaxi

OR: Tone 101: How to Create Mood Lighting


Cotopaxi - Frederic Edwin Church


I scoured the internet for a usable picture of Mt. Rainier, but I didn't like any of the ones I found. The consolation prize, I suppose, is this pretty badass painting of an erupting volcano called Cotopaxi, which is somewhere in Ecuador.

What struck me most in relating the reading to this particular painting was Ruskin's description of "tone." A lot of Ruskin's description of art I either don't agree with or is over my head, but I did like how he described tone in relation to landscapes, and how tone has two aspects:

[F]irst, the exact relief and relation of objects against and to each other in substance and darkness, as they are nearer or more distant, and the perfect relation of the shades of all of them to the chief light of the picture, whether that be sky, water, or anything else. Secondly, the exact relation of the colors to the shadows to the colors of the lights, [...] so that the whole of the picture (or, where several tones are united, those parts of it which are under each,) may be felt to be in one climate, under one kind of light, and in one kind of atmosphere; this being chiefly dependent on that peculiar and inexplicable quality of each color laid on, which makes the eye feel both what is the actual color of the object represented, and that it is raised to its apparent pitch by illumination. (Ruskin II.I.1, page 141) 
I don't nearly have the expertise in art that I would like, but what I think it boils down to is that the work should have a consistent and realistic relationship between its light source and the objects within, and that a gifted artist will be able to "illuminate" certain colors and shapes using those light sources. The better a work's lighting, the higher the work's quality of tone.

Why I find this description of tone particularly useful in analysis of Cotopaxi, is because this work has multiple light sources working harmoniously to form a rich picture, and the bright colors seem to pop off of the canvas (or in this case, out of the monitor) brilliantly. According to my count, the work has one main light source, the sun, but because of the ash coming out of the volcano the sun doesn't dominate the lighting of the painting and allows for three more secondary light sources: the lake directly below the sun, the waterfall at the bottom slightly toward the left, and the unobscured patch of sky in the top left sixth.

These light sources somewhat distort the actual colors of the painting as to what we would typically see. The trees in the bottom left corner are not green, but are multiple shades of black and red; the cliff faces aren't sandy beige, but look like glowing coal embers. The flat lake looks more like a pool of lava than a cool pond. The ash coming out of the volcano tints the sun, and therefore tints everything else.

However, the sky to the left of the volcano has not been obstructed by ash, and is the typical light blue. This gives the painting some depth and a touch of realism that Ruskin covets so greatly. Because of the patch of blue sky, the viewer is reminded that the distorted color scheme is due to natural forces, not just some hellish vision of the artist. Also, the waterfall reflects white and blue, in part due to the sky as a light source, but also because rapidly moving water naturally reflects all spectrums of light.

Church understands Ruskin's principles of tone: he wanted to paint Cotopaxi in passionate tones of red and black, but in order to do this he had to invent a natural way to distort the color scheme (the volcano wasn't actually erupting, and the waterfall wasn't actually there). The work is still part of the artist's imagination, but it fits the laws of nature. Therefore, Church's work gets the Ruskin stamp of approval.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Tempestuous Lady Lilith

OR: A smorgasbord of…desire?


Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told
     (The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
     That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could
      deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
     And, subtly of herself contemplative,
     Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
     Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent                   10
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
     Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
     Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

Rossetti’s painting of a contemporary (Victorian) Lilith, coupled with a marvelous poem that also re-imagines Lilith, struck me as a very thoughtful and beautiful combination of a several complex artistic areas. The poem is based off of the medieval tale of Lilith, the “real” first woman in Genesis, who was made from the same clay as Adam but run off from Eden because she was too headstrong*. So here, Rossetti bases a painting off of a poem that is based off of a fable that is based off of the Old Testament. Ambitious to say the least. Not to mention that in the painting and poem he reconciles Medieval, Romantic, and Victorian principles and melds them together quite nicely. The result is a very complex and intriguing “double work,” but it gives scholars like us a headache trying to decipher all of the influences that went into said work.

The interplay between the poem and painting draws out a theme of decadence that transcends time periods and artistic movements, however. Lilith is staring at herself in a mirror while combing her hair, the personification of Narcissism, “subtly of herself contemplative” (7). The painting is littered with roses and poppies, which are blatant symbols of lust (the red rose, the flower of love) and sensual pleasure (poppies, from which opium is made). And helpfully, the poem states what the painting implies: that Lilith is a tempter and trapper of men. Her tempestuousness is best described in lines eight and nine: “[She] [d]raws men to watch the bright web she can weave, / Till heart and body and life are in its hold.”

What connects the double work to its Victorian audience is the portrayal of Lilith’s hair. As Rossetti remarks that “her enchanted hair was the first gold,” (5) he is tying greed into Lilith’s desirous but evil qualities. The painting emphasizes this, as Lilith’s hair is beautifully detailed (more so than her actual body) and is the center of the action. Hair, as a metaphor for gold, expresses Rossetti’s concern with Victorian materialism. By coupling lustfulness and materialism, he is examining the fundamental theme of unchecked desire, and by evoking the “first woman,” he is reiterating that this desire is as old as the human race. The final two lines seem to be a warning about the consequences of following such desires: “so went / [Lilith’s] spell through him, and left his straight neck bent / And round his heart one strangling golden hair.” Rossetti is simultaneously warning against and admiring the power desire wields over men.

FOOTNOTE: * I had never heard of this interpretation of Genesis, but apparently it exists because of two separate mentions of the creation of woman in the Old Testament: 1:27 “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them,” and 2:22 “Then God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.” Apparently in between there was Lilith. Who knew?

Friday, February 12, 2010

Hangin' with Mr. Hooper

OR: "hanging down over his face, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black veil" (Hawthorne, 1253)

Picking out instances of Dark Romanticism in Hawthorne is like playing Nintendo with a Game Genie: it's really, really easy but strangely satisfying. The Minister's Black Veil is highly entertaining for a story wherein not much happens, and I think we can owe that up to all the layers of fantastic gloominess and symbolism Hawthorne gives us. What I especially appreciate are the not-so-subtle hints Hawthorne gives his readers to let us know that the veil not only has an effect on how people see the minister, but also how he sees everyone else.

From the beginning of the story we understand that the black veil not only darkens Mr. Hooper's face, but also everything he sees: "two folds of crape [...] did not intercept his sight, farther than to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things" (Hawthorne 1253). I find this aspect of the veil, which is easily overlooked, to play a very important role in the story. In separating the minister from society, the veil seems to give Mr. Hooper some level of objectivity when observing people. While the Romanticists understand this theme, Hawthorne's twist is to make the veil black, and therefore darken everything. This is Hawthorne's way of saying that the true nature is mankind is much more sinister than the Romanticists and Transcendentalists would lead you to believe. Mr. Hooper doesn't wear the veil because he is eccentric or reclusive, but because the veil seems to reveal people's true nature, "as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind his awful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought" (1254). The veil has a two-fold purpose, not simply the effect of shadowing Hooper's face.

Thus, the minister refuses to remove his veil because the veil allows him to see the true nature of the people in his community. He will not remove it unless everyone acts truthfully, removing their own veils. He states as much in his final speech before his own death:

"Tremble also at each other! [...] What, but the mystery which it obscurely typifies, has made this piece of crape so awful? When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to his best-beloved; when man does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret of his sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol beneath which I have lived, and die! I look around me and lo! every visage a black veil!" (1261).

It appears as if, through his black veil, Mr. Hooper has unlocked some sort of key to seeing through the facade of others. This is why people fear his sermons, why children run from him, and why he can ruin a perfectly good wedding just by showing up. Mr. Hooper is enlightened; Emerson's consummate "Man Thinking" - but this alienates him from the rest of mankind.

Works Cited:

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. "The Minister's Black Veil." The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Fifth Edition, Volume 1. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1998. 1252-61. Print.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Since Brienne stole my idea...

Here is another video from Youtube that I almost used. I just don't want to re-write part of my post.



johnathankumberland (2 weeks ago):
Plays On My Ipod EvreyMinute Of Evrey Day!

Epigravitas



holmessword65 (5 hours ago):
And they talk about that in the movie. Circle of Life, he admits he eats antelope, but when he dies he becomes part of the world, the grass. Circle of Life pay attention to it. Watch the movie it explains everything.

I've decided to preface this blog post with an epigraph of my own, only in true Tanner (code: lazy) style, I used a Youtube video with one of the actual comments. It is the fourth type of epigraph, creating the "epigraph effect," and is not well thought out or really even that poignant. It just sets the mood for the rest of my blog post.


Epigraphs are really awesome when well done, but in the hands of a novice feel tacked on or irrelevant (see above). I think this is why we have a tendency to skip them. In some works, however, epigraphs add a whole realm of depth to a work. For instance, my favorite novel (Blood Meridian) has three epigraphs, each strikingly different, and each adding another layer of meaning to the following work. Another fantastic epigraph is the excerpt from a Yeats poem in Things Fall Apart, which explains the title, sets a tone, displays several themes, and creates a dichotomy between the English and African. A good epigraph can spawn layers upon layers of literary criticism, and that is why we love them.

Emerson's epigraph in Circles is one of the good ones, and it is a fantastic way to summarize the themes in his following essay. More specifically, it focuses on the relationship between the temporary and the long-lasting, and how circles and spheres are perfect symbols of this relationship. Here it is:

Nature centres into balls,
And her proud ephemerals,
Fast to surface and outside,
Scan the profile of the sphere;
Knew they what that signified,
A new genesis were here.

This short poem displays three main themes to Emerson's following work: the fundamentality of circles (or spheres or balls), the fleeting nature of life, and the idea of rebirth. It is basically a poem about "the circle of life."

The subjects of the poem are the "proud ephemerals," where ephemerals here mean "temporary beings." Emerson is obviously invoking mankind (I am not trying to be sexist. I just prefer the sound of 'mankind' to 'humankind' or 'humanity'.) in this term, but his use of "ephemerals" makes the subject of this poem more broad than just people, encompassing all life on the planet. Ephemeral is most commonly used to describe plant-life, so by using such a term to describe humans, it reminds the reader that mankind is still a fleeting aspect of nature. This is highlighted very early in his essay, as at the beginning of paragraph three Emerson states, "[t]here are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of degrees." Mankind is a) a part of nature and b) very temporary. The poem and the essay help put an individual's life in perspective.

The "ephemerals" in Emerson's poem "[s]can the profile of the sphere; / [k]new they what that signified," meaning that mankind has learned to take clues from nature. Emerson (as we have thoroughly discussed) heartily believed that people get true knowledge from nature, and that through its observation we can uncover ultimate truths. The action in this poem is that people, fleeting creations of nature, uncover the mystery of the world by observing and understanding the natural world. Emerson describes this act of observation as a purification: "[c]leansed by the elemental light and wind, steeped in the sea of beautiful forms which the field offers us, we may chance to cast a right glance back upon biography." The individual purifies his or her mind by learning how to take clues from nature.

Finally in the poem, nature's lesson is revealed: "A new genesis were here." Through understanding the symbolism of circles, mankind knows that while the individual's life is fleeting, it is still important in that it begins a new cycle. The circle, ever present in nature, shows us that our actions have consequece, and are in fact amplified over time. While our lives are fleeting, the effects of our actions are not. "Every ultimate fact is only the first of a new series. Every general law only a particular fact of some more general law presently to disclose itself. There is no outside, no inclosing wall, no circumference to us." The circle of life.

Mufasa understood this and the world was prosperous; Scar did not and led the land into turmoil.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Big R Romantic Poetry

OR: Not that "roses are red" crap


The picturesque descriptions of nature and the feelings it evokes is a staple of Romantic poetry. I, however, think the most interesting aspect of Romanticism is it's knee-jerk reaction against the rational ideas of the Enlightenment. Although the principals involved with the Rationalist and the Romantic movements were all progressive thinkers who sought to question traditional institutions and values, the Rationalists did so through reason while the Romanticists did so through feeling. Therefore, when reading Romantic poetry I like to pick out the aspects where a Rationalist would take issue and examine those aspects of the poem.

To me, the part of "Floating Island" that epitomizes the Romantic reaction against the Rational is the opening stanza:


"Harmonious Powers with Nature work
On sky, earth, river, lake, and sea:
Sunshine and storm, whirlwind and breeze
All in one duteous task agree."



I love Google Image search ----->



The Rationalist thinkers of the period just before Romanticism (like Jock Locke, Immanuel Kant, Thomas Jefferson, etc.) were extremely good at categorizing. The very basis of rational thought is to break something down and analyze its separate parts. Dorothy Wordsworth's poem does the opposite here, calling Nature's powers "harmonious," and calling their work "one duteous task." I like this idea of the multiple aspects of Nature being fundamentally united, but rational thinkers would have likely liked more input on the interactions between the opposing and cooperating forces (if they would have bothered to analyze nature at all). While Wordsworth make it a point to name the different forces of nature, she emphasizes their unity above everything else. This is an important break from Rationalist thought, which would have been more preoccupied with interaction and conflict between forces.

I appreciate the Romanticists because they balance out all the categorizing and breaking down that the Rationalists do. I realize that it is important to break complex ideas and analyze them, but the Romanticists realized that there was a bigger picture that is sometimes just too big (or too small) to dissect. Romanticism focuses on the overall feelings that big, complicated ideas or simple, minute details can evoke in an individual and doesn't one over the other. It's a very intuitive way of looking at the world, and it helps people overcome "paralysis by analysis" that can occur when rationalization overly complicates something. Wordsworth's poem about the "little island" focuses on the effects nature has on the individual without breaking down why the forces do what they do. For instance, in the fifth stanza Wordsworth writes, "And thus through many seasons' space / This little Island may survive" (17-18). Romanticism focuses on the effect of complex and natural forces, rather than the impetus behind the effect.