Reading Wysocki & Johndan Johnson-Eilola’s text the second-time through (thankfully, this text marks the final of pieces I read ahead of time, in my unfortunate habit of reading wrong assignments), this jumped out:
“Importantly, if we value this search engine—which is in effect the front end to a database—
if we value this as a form of writing, then we can then begin to argue that the sorts of choices one makes in writing the database—for example, what categories to include, what to exclude; which category to put first; etc.—we can start to argue that these choices involve responsibilities to the reader and to society, just as we now do in other, more traditional forms of writing.” (p. 220, emphasis added)
In the margin, I scribbled ethos. In Advanced Composition, Kate Ryan devoted the second portion of the semester to studying this concept, which I self-defined as, “Both the process and product of constructing, as a writer, the trustworthiness of your character as it reveals in your text and the exigency of the text’s situation.” In light of reading The Filter Bubble, I am questioning whether or not we should (or even can) demand an ethos from web-writers equal to that of traditional print writers. How do we justify rigorous expectations from authors of scientific journals, yet allow code writers to make their own rules—rules which do not always favor the at-large mission of furthering public knowledge? The debate comes back to a "great power/great responsibility" situation, just like we initially discussed regarding rhetors and the persuasive power of speech.
When Kohl wrote, “…from this point of view, it is only about the structural and thematic organization of the texts and not about the process of writing,” (p. 173) I recognized that he was differentiating between what “makes” a thing. Is it the process or the product? Most teachers and professors ban Wikipedia use in their students' composition, because of its supposed unreliability; that is, the finished product is an unstable text not trustworthy to cite. Yet, observing the process of a page on Wikipedia can reveal great amounts of knowledge regarding identity construction, how history adjusts according to interpretation and time, and how multiple writers create and negotiate text in social spaces. The end-product becomes a by-product for the rich process, Kohl seems to say, urging for the developmental history of a page to become the focal point of attention. Kohl further points out the changing nature of texts—from the dissolution of author and recipient (p. 170) to time becoming a dimension of the text (p. 174), the stable, static, hardcover books is the romantic remnant of a writing past gone by.
I am recognizing more and more the value of students' blogging, just like we do right here, right now. Text was never stable, and the interwebz only reveal, increasingly, its dynamic movement and change. Writing a blog allows the student to reflect on the temporarily and contingent nature of their text, as well as reflect on its change and metamorphosis over time. We are, in effect, creating textual timelines of our thought processes throughout the class. How cool is that? It's incredible.
But returning to ethos, how are we to transfer over expectations for credibility from the print world to the digital one? Are the same criterion for honesty and trustworthiness applicable? What is the importance or implications of a web writer’s ethos? The speed of developing technology dashes along at a quicker pace than public and scholarly response to these questions, and I think we should more actively attend to issues of online ethos.
Well, this project was difficult. As I brainstormed ideas and attempted to pin down concepts, I struggled between creating form and content. See, I have always learned to prioritize content over form. Writing traditionally, I develop ideas, research, write outlines, and then lay it all down on the page, the form emerging as a final, somewhat non-chosen, step.
While attempting to create the infographic, my mind spun with numerous ideas regarding form. Layouts, colors, charts, shapes, and fonts buzzed around in my head, rather than ideas for actual content. It seemed every time I landed on an idea, the form possibilities would take over and push me in the direction of another one. I had ninety-nine ideas, but content wasn't one; I was thinking so greatly on what it would look like, I could not decide what it would be about. The two, of course, are inextricably linked. Yet this dual-developing, trying to draft a form and content that are cohesive, not redundant, but complimentary and filling each other’s shortcomings, was like trying to speak two different languages simultaneously. I am so very native in English, it seems my default for thinking. I rarely think or imagine in images as some do, and so it follows that conceptualizing with a foreign tongue would prove difficult.
Another aspect that frustrated me was exactly that—the multiplicity of form ideas, compared to fewer content ideas. I was imagining banners, dreaming of icons and Venn diagrams, hypothesizing adding Gifs and sound bytes, and wishing I knew how to write parallax code. My abilities once again favored writing, and my technological prowess stood no chance at meeting the breadth of my ideas. I spent a good portion of the brainstorming session wishing that digital rhetorics was taught earlier on, in high school or middle school, so that my brain had time to develop this two-tiered invention process, where I can think in form as simply as I think in content. I see great potential in fields where the physical appearance of thing speaks as loudly a message, or louder, as its explicit text. Form has always been a major player in the meaning-making sphere; we are just coming to notice it even more now.
As Friday drew near, I eventually settled on an earlier idea for the infographic that I knew I could create with less brain-ache, albeit my perfectionist drive to create the "best" would suffer. I read that smokers’ brains come to associate positive vibes with the color and look of a cigarette pack, and I had also read the timeline of bodily processes post-quitting, and thought they would make an interesting combination. Further, I feel that many stop-smoking campaigns focus on the negative aspects of continuing, rather than the positive aspects of quitting. Make someone stressed about their blood pressure, and their immediate stress-response will be to light up. But show the positive compound-effect of quitting, that every day without a cigarette adds more to their life, and smokers can respond with optimism and motivation. While putting the graphic together, I found myself considering aspects like font more than ever before. What mood does this convey? Does it feel proud, professional, comforting, ominous? What does the angle of a line change? Also, it is safe to say I spent a large portion of the invention process being 1.) disappointed that Google did not have the graphics I sought, and 2.) using Ctrl + arrow keys to shift everything around in micro-movements, until it all fit together. Like the finesse of final editing, you strive for balance and readability, and while the process may seem agonizing at times, it is crucial for reader experience.
Regarding number one, I was stoked on creating an infographic showing the steps of basic fly fishing casts, but could find little art on the subject to aid my graphic. Of course, were I a design-ninja I could have simply sketched something, but of course, I am a writer. In one way, the rhetorical situation was one that asked writers to become graphic designers, and thus I was bound by Google's search results (cue discussion on Filter Bubbles.) The rhetorical situation also heavily involved technology, and thus when my computer froze up and refused to run Power Point at normal speed, I was constrained. Thankfully, the library has speedy computers, but they also kick you out at 8:00 p.m. on Friday nights, did you know that? I didn't.
In the future, I will start my intense thinking/mental drafting process much earlier. And, I will choose something that passionately interests me, something that I geek out about. Creativity takes excitement, at least that’s my opinion. This project honed my practice of stress-working, but also my belief that the digital realm of writing is rich with possibility for meaning-making.
If I had more time, I would change subjects, probably following through on the casting diagram, or perhaps something entirely different. With these projects, I can burrow down deep and pull out my perfectionist and creative side, and sometimes make magic. But, my inspiration was absent, and even though I called and beckoned and whined and demanded, it did not show its lovely face. I have been considering how we beckon imagination...or is it un-beckonable?
Of course, the struggle is always good. It drove me nearly crazy to feel I had the abilities but lacked the inspiration, but also pushed me to consider how it is we come by those ideas. Perhaps they often arise unpredictable, and when they strike, we better be ready. But less unpredictable, I think we need to train our minds to think in both content and form-- to consider how an idea looks alongside what it means; to consider ideas from a visual perspective. We need better, more multiple ways of seeing, so that when we create, the layered-content/form process will come naturally, and with less struggle.
I know even more now how digital designers face incredibly complex work, how the form will speak for itself if the writer does not intend it to speak something else, and that to better my sketching skills is to better my communication and meaning-making skills, who would have thought. (-:
…I am not entirely sure what I will do here. Image and text are two very complex and meaning-rich discourses, each with an attitude of its own, and sometimes it seems, a will of their own too. Combining the two in a manner cohesive enough to create fluidity and enriched meaning, but notso cohesive so the text/image act as redundant counterparts seems a bit like asking two intelligent, strong-willed, creative, and somewhat-mischievous children to play together. Let’s just say supervision will be required.
I am not entirely sure what will happen, not because I lack vision for what I want to do, but because it seems anytime we bring two modes together, something happens in the collision of modalities—meaning unexpectedly creates itself. So, I have a plan, but I am also quite prepared for the essay to create rhetorical forces of its own, as it presents different modes in conversation with each other. Who knows what they might have to say?
Research Question: Wysocki demonstrated how our world, and thus our writing and media, have traded particularities for abstracts, and learned to devalue the “particular and the messy.” Yet, anyone who switches on daytime television will find a jackpot of soap operas revealing the messiness of personal life, for everyone to see. So, we do not live in a culture devoid of recognizing particularities and “imperfections,” but we limit them to specific times and places. In light of this, I aim to investigate what qualifiers are currently used to determine something is “too” personal or particular, and what do these “TMI-indicators” reveal about values and epistemologies? You could categorize my research question as epistemologically-based, but I believe the end result will also merge into discourses of feminist theory.
What I don’t know, that I would like to, is how can we integrate the “particular and the messy” without becoming overly explicit, or unnecessarily self-focused? How can academics begin to integrate themselves into their pieces as more than abstract authors? Since language at its core is abstraction, is it capable of portraying the non-abstract, and if so, how? If we all held different ideas of concepts in our heads, we would certainly find difficulty in communicating, so how can we balance accepting/recognizing specificities while also maintaining general understandings needed for human communication that will always be mediated?
I feel a question that the epistemological/teaching field has yet to answer, lies in regard to measuring the “Quality” (and if you know Pirsig, you know what I mean) associated with exposing these particulars. How can we get students talking and writing about their non-abstract selves, without getting long strings of gushing self-referential prose that does not successfully inspect or shed light on greater issues?
Methods: I intend to include, throughout my essay, pictures of bodily aspects usually photo-shopped out—from moles to stretch marks to scars to wrinkles. I hope to utilize the strength of up-close images as a metaphor for examining subverted aspects of our thought processes and evaluation processes, just as these elements of bodies are often subjugated or sidestepped. I intend to spend a good amount of time looking at similar photo essays approaching this topic. Mining the comments on online articles is an excellent way to understand the different perspectives people take, especially when you encounter fiery objection. I am sure Wysocki and I will become close friends throughout this process, and New Media also offers a nice bibliography of related texts that will be mined. Also, besides the usual Academic Search Complete/Artemis/CompPile searches, I would love to take pictures of these “flaws” and talk to people about their own views of the particulars of their bodies. There are also some good pieces critically analyzing the “nude” as an art form, and whether that is a positive step towards non-objectification or not, a discussion I find fascinating and helpful. I also would like to find instances where writers shared particulars of their lives and it worked well rhetorically, verses when it went south, and why.
Speculations on Resulting Text: Going back to the beginning, I am not entirely sure what this finished project will look like. It will probably be on pages, with writing and photos. That’s two things for sure. I am toying with the idea of creating two versions—a nice digital copy to submit online, and a “raw” copy that is hand-written, with the pictures taped onto the pages, representing more of a body with character than an abstract document with letters. But we will see. I think, I hope, it will cover a wide variety of topics, but unite them back around the struggle of “what gets priority in visual texts” and finding balance between unhelpful self-exposing and beneficial revealing of our particulars. I think it will look like a conversation of, in making meaning and communicating, where should the personal arise in a manner that furthers knowledge for all?
Marginalia...are students discouraged from "thinking outside the box?"
Remember back when I accidentally read Wysocki, when I should have read Wysocki/Johnson-Eilola? Apparently my syllabus-reading skills took a turn for the worse earlier on this semester. In any case, I wrote this on Multiple Media then:
“"Each aspect...involves choice" (p. 132). To me, that fragmented quote encapsulates the entire text. As I went through the examples, I was struck by how traditional academic essay formats reflect the very tenets which "rational" meaning making teaches. Unchanging lines of simple, identical text void of color or diversity do not compel the reader to consider the context of the piece. Instead, the reader receives the unconscious message that context is irrelevant, and only the non-physical ideas, the concepts or theories addressed within matter. Even margins imply that the text's meaning is easily encapsulated, existing as a stand-alone entity and not worthy of critical analysis on the situatedness of the piece. The format of parallel lines, each page mirroring the others, makes the reader disregard materiality and temporality. We become lost in the lofty ideas, and forget to make connections, to consider the author's narrative paradigm and contextual intent-- we forget the author breathes, hurts, longs, laughs, and most importantly, wants.”
I hold these same ideas in mind now. Bernhardt does a nice job demonstrating the rhetorical effectiveness of visual layout within text. The physical arrangement of text can point towards certain sections, appeal to wide audiences, compact information, and purposefully guide the reader through a piece of writing. Bernhardt ends by encouraging students and teachers to study and experiment with visual text, and explore the potentials and capability for creativity and effective communication therein. I believe Bernhardt’s mission is valid, but equally important is the notion of exclusion—where is the visual purposefully ignored or subverted? Like my commentary on Wysocki, we can learn and see incredible implicit messages if we look at places where we usually overlook—blank margins, for example.
If punctuation is “illustrations without pictures” (p. 283),
...because I have always wanted to post this, but lacked the proper textual environment.
then these small symbols are equally important in creating textual meaning, yet too often overlooked. For example, where are all the exclamations in academic writing? Isn’t anyone excited about all this knowledge? Or would such an “overt” display of excitement betray emotion, which would supposedly reveal fallibility or weakness? Also, if effective punctuation creates a “harmonious interrelation between punctuation and words” (p. 289) then what happens when we purposefully break this convention? Surely I am not the only person who often wants to write with repeated ellipses…because you see, nearly every thought I have and sentence I write is not so encapsulated and contained….but rather, one leads to the other...no one thought contained or disconnected from the next...yet many of my “in-between thoughts”…those between one and the other…are left unwritten. The very conventions we take as “normal,” ”universal,” or “obvious” were chosen and created with a purpose, even if that purpose was to subvert critical analyzation of the choosing. Wysocki notes how the acts we take to move through a text speak volume about the relationship of the textual elements therein, as well as the relationship between reader and text that the text asks or expects through its layout. It is important that we recognize the implicit value a period (rather than an exclamation mark!) implies, not so that we can go on rampages of punctuation-less writing (which is very confusing, simply read A Pickle for the Knowing Ones or Plain Truth in a Homespun Dress by Timothy Dexter, an autobiography written without punctuation) but simply so that we can see the subconscious binds which constrain our language. Then, after seeing we can choose whether to keep or to disregard...whether to operate within the existing conventions or push outside of them...whether it is important to call to attention such conventions or let them be...a question which will inevitably shape the type of writings we create.
The story of this video began as a conversation with my younger sister, the end result of which was our sarcastic ridicule of overt displays of “masculinity.” Socially, we have constructed certain attributes as “manly,” but these attributes are, at their core, arbitrary. Something is regarded “masculine” largely because culture constructed it as such.
The story looks like me rounding up roommates, sisters, friends, to interview. I found that nearly every woman I spoke with had ideas regarding her part, especially once I gave a few “primer” ideas. The ladies infused my script with a life of their own, a passion that made me laugh and appreciate the camaraderie. Coordinating is a huge effort of film, especially once you start involving other people. When the writer composes, they can find other voices to add to the conversation simply by searching a database. In video, the composer needs physical access to the additional voices and sources, showing how much more the image/video is embodied.
The writing process was similar to the introduction video in that I storyboarded for a while before making my shots. Video is highly interconnected; it is impossible to splice up and manipulate the specifics like language. Therefore, I knew I needed to get quality takes that maintained the vibe I wanted throughout. Rather than writing and composing from words, in putting together a video the artists combines large pieces of already-compiled information. Therefore, it is already “written” in some aspects, before the author begins to string the videos together. Working with multiple characters differentiated it from my introduction video, and I had to apply extra measures, like evening out the volume for all subjects so one was not louder than the others, to create a fluid text. I also had to coordinate tones, and put “interviews” next to each other that fit well in regards to subject, length, energy, etc.
I did not do my original idea, which was a satirical infomercial regarding writing “opportunities” for women, because I realized the project would require more time and effort than I could budget. So, an element of the rhetorical situation was a college-level class, in which I had other demands on my time, and video is a very time-consuming medium. I also chose not to create anything that did not entertain on some level, because the rhetorical situation seemed asking for something witty and humorous. I also felt the need for a social critique, something that exposed constituents of society that we too often take for granted. The rhetorical situation asked my video to imply both a question and an answer, and gender construction is a rich site for both.
In the future, I would have liked to include more subjects. The diversity of character enriched the film; I love the idea of collaborative writing, and video is an excellent platform for that type of work. As a writer and thinker, I have begun to see the possibilities of video manifested in the limitations of text. This would make an awesome film short, I have found myself thinking about writing projects. Video, interviews, do not allow us to be bodiless subjects, and I see great potential in that physical presence. Our narratives become visible by the very presence of our bodies, and viewers cannot ignore the text’s situatedness.
Affirmed habits and “things I didn’t know before” include:
· The graphic design lab iMacs = awesome.
· Working ahead on contacting people to help you = good.
· Shooting in different types of light = bad.
· Entering the editing process with a plan, but prepared to toss the whole thing out = good.
· Music can change the entire tone; like an entire stylistic re-write.
· The editing aspect constitutes as much of “composing” as shooting the original video.
Working with video, in many ways, seems like working with layers of text simultaneously. There is the “text” of lighting, of sound, of transitions, music, subject, dialogue, captions, and so forth. It shows bodies, it shows situatedness and subject-object interaction…video may be the ideal medium for exposing and resisting “masculine” conventions that can constrain language.
While
reading Jamieson’s perfectly-written text, which encapsulates the greater part of what I feel and
think about women, writing, rationality, and the public discourse, I kept
hearing Andrea Nye from Words of Power
and the Power of Words in my head.
She writes:
"I
believe all human communication, including logic, is motivated…people when they
speak or write always want something and hope for something with passion and
concern, even when part of that passion and concern is to deny it…The
discussion of a man in authority with a woman who sets herself up to refute his
pronouncements is always on his terms, and likely to end up only in one way:
with the reaffirmation of his power." (Nye 442-443)
The
most insidious system of power is rarely brazen, blasting, or ruling by the sword,
but rather the
one that doesn’t call its own name, and instead masquerades around as
normality and universality. Traditionalist
men created a construct of public discourse which did not explicitly exclude
women from entering the debate, and therefore could not be immediately
recognized as bias and sexist. Yet, to
participate in “manly” speech, the highest regarded and expected form of
discourse, women needed to deny their femininity, and ultimately, humanity. To participate in the “manly”
conversation, one needed to deny their feelings, their intuition, their desire
for intimacy, relationships, and peace.
Some women overcame, pushed their way into a system designed to exclude
and oust their presence, but all their “success” accomplished was reinforcing the system that existed to subvert them.
Handbags, anyone?
People
like to say that sexism is a “thing of the past,” that women have equal rights
now, and can pursue any job or career without barriers. I have even heard the argument that men are
reverse-biased, that prejudice has been turned upon the man, and women “get
away” with too much. Those arguments
notwithstanding, we need to recognize that the very basis of western thought
and public discourse, “rationalism,” still exists on man’s territory, and we
play by his rules. If I can say anything
without frustration, it will be regarding the power of narrative. Jamieson opens a door, considering new
technology (media) as an opportunity for women to alter the disadvantages of
“professional discourse,” through the narrative style with which they have
become familiar. Video shows the relationship between a subject and their space, shows imperfections, shows bodies rather than just minds. At our core, we are
storytelling creatures; television and video offer outlets for this form to
emerge. I had never considered the
implications of new technology on gender roles, and her discussion of
television has me now considering how the surge in multiple media will continue
to affect our constructions of gendered and power-driven language.
“Before
they can bring centuries of acculturation to television, women must overcome
their socially reinforced fear of public speech; they must then abandon the
“manly” style they adopted in order to deliver socially acceptable public
discourse.” (Jamieson, 808)
Sometimes,
oftentimes, I have a hard time sticking up for myself when doing so will let
someone else down. I have felt too many
heavy-set footprints from letting people walk over me, but still have a hard
time recognizing how to stop it.
Jamieson offers the idea that women are socially trained to be
submissive, letting others assert their aggressive tendencies, while we remain
passive, because to speak up or speak out would be “bitchy,” “dominant,”
“impulsive,” “improper,” and a whole slew of words which all mean “not
gentle.” Sociologically, women are less
likely to negotiate higher pay grades, because a men bartering for higher
salaries they are seen as assertive, but when women negotiate they are
considered pushy or smug. At its core,
negotiation is negotiation, but we interpret it differently depending on sex. Yet, the idea that a willingness to be
trodden upon is trained means it is
not innate, not “natural,” and can be untrained.
Wysocki
does some incredible work. This:
“We
can create aesthetic experiences…for each other where we use the expected
social constructions of form just enough to hold onto what audiences expect, but
where we can then also make visible the limitation of the forms we have been
asked to grow into but, if we are to be safe and fully respected, cannot.”
(Wysocki 172)
This
is genius. Wysocki is not saying, “Death
to all images! Death to all text!” But
rather encourages us to turn the conventions on themselves. Rather than blind reinforcement of
preexisting power, we can follow cultural expectations and restrictions for
images and writing just enough to be accepted into the discourse, but push,
bend, and resist the rules enough to create self-reflective writing and images
which call their own cultural assumptions and strictures out. We can reveal the limitations of the form
while still working within that form, and it might be the most powerful demonstration
of all.
Her
consideration of Kant’s argument regarding universality makes absolute sense in
today’s culture. Society has constructed
the “perfect” ameliorated female body type, to have access to a universal principle of “female beauty.”
But when we seek out the actual relationship, the site of interaction,
the day-to-day peculiarities and specificities of the female form, it is far
less universal. I have freckles, round
hips, cellulite in places I rarely look.
My skin sheds itself, my hairs escape while also insisting on tangling,
getting dirty, drying out. My stomach is
not flat, my teeth sit in a uniquely not-straight configuration, I have
dimples on my lower back and scars from chicken pox. My hips and
thighs have coursing stretch marks whose texture remind me of a topographical
map, telling the story of my growth. My
body is a collection of perfect specifications, my body has been through everything I have, and tells a story my brain cannot.
But
what lies the next level down? Wysocki
writes, “This desire for abstract formality we have
learned…separates us from
our histories and places, and hence from each other” (Wysocki 169). I want to venture that our fear of intimacy
pushes us into discourses that allow isolation.
We live in a culture that asks us not to be bodies—to make our bodies be
nothing more than vehicles to tote our brains around. What is so terrifying about being human? The fallibility? Were Aristotle, Plato, Kant, etc. dreadfully fearful of their innate weaknesses? Principles and abstractions allow us to shirk
particulars; the concept (rather than the person) cannot be broken. Is it so violating to recognize that, in the
end, we are all decomposing bodies, falling apart at the seams, slowly, minute
by minute? You might see me as a student who speaks up in discussion, or always writes lengthy blogs with
multisyllabic words. Maybe you see me as
intelligent, funny, or intense. Which
could be true, but also, underneath all this academic prose, maybe I am a
tired woman. Maybe an ex is making my
life hard, maybe I have sore arms because I have not lifted in months and just
started and it hurts like hell, maybe I am lonely, or hungry, or maybe today is
the best day I have had in a long time. Maybe they are all true, simultaneously. I
guess what I am trying to say is, academic discourse could attain so much more were we honest with ourselves and others.
Universalities
and generalities are boring, and only support the powers that be. We need to show, through our compositions
and our self presentations, “the particular and the messy” (168).
Also, if you have a bit, check out Emma Watson's killer speech on feminism:
When Kohl wrote, “…from this point of view, it is only about the structural and thematic organization of the texts and not about the process of writing,” (p. 173) I recognized that he was differentiating between what “makes” a thing. Is it the process or the product? Most teachers and professors ban Wikipedia use in their students' composition, because of its supposed unreliability; that is, the finished product is an unstable text not trustworthy to cite. Yet, observing the process of a page on Wikipedia can reveal great amounts of knowledge regarding identity construction, how history adjusts according to interpretation and time, and how multiple writers create and negotiate text in social spaces. The end-product becomes a by-product for the rich process, Kohl seems to say, urging for the developmental history of a page to become the focal point of attention. Kohl further points out the changing nature of texts—from the dissolution of author and recipient (p. 170) to time becoming a dimension of the text (p. 174), the stable, static, hardcover books is the romantic remnant of a writing past gone by. 
I am recognizing more and more the value of students' blogging, just like we do right here, right now. Text was never stable, and the interwebz only reveal, increasingly, its dynamic movement and change. Writing a blog allows the student to reflect on the temporarily and contingent nature of their text, as well as reflect on its change and metamorphosis over time. We are, in effect, creating textual timelines of our thought processes throughout the class. How cool is that? It's incredible.
