When The Fountain of Youth Ran Dry

My mother is a dermatologist, a cosmetic dermatologist, and I have watched her practice grow as her proficiency with utilizing images increases. Her PowerPoint presentations are proliferated with before and after pictures of her patients. Images have become so important in her practice that she has even hired a professional photographer to take pictures of her clients. Now, my mom does not alter the photographs on Photoshop or anything like that because she lacks the technical know-how, but nevertheless these images, like intentionally altered photographs, feed their viewer a hegemonic reading by playing upon the viewer’s belief in photographic truth. And nothing strengthens the viewer’s belief in photographic truth like science. Because a doctor and some scientific-looking before and after pictures back up these new skin treatments few people question them. In fact, you don’t even need to be a doctor to back up a product in an advertisement; all you really need is a white lab coat.

Here are two brief examples of how science and images help to reinforce one another. First, I remember when I was little attending one of my mother’s PowerPoint presentations. A representative from a drug company was there pushing a new product, and this drug representative came equipped with a special kind of camera that could expose the accumulative amount of sun damage on your face. I was only like twelve around the time, but when the photo was instantly developed (like a Polaroid) my face was littered with a multitude of dark leathery freckles! I can only image what the older women must have looked like in this camera’s lens. After seeing their horrendously wrinkly images, they probably would have bought anything that lady was selling.

My second example is a few weeks ago I saw Clinique advertising in the quad. They offered passersby free samples and consultations. All of the assistants were wearing white lab coats, and yet they appeared to be undergraduate students. Let’s just say, I’m pretty sure that none of them have their Ph.D. Science and advertising are a dangerous combination that the consumer should be wary of; in the case of cosmetic dermatology, we need to reconcile ourselves with the fact that the fountain of youth is unobtainable.

How Copy Cats Got Their Groove Back

The Magritte exhibit at the LACMA boggled my mind; it was fabulous! However, one painting in particular failed to impress—Le Blanc-Seing. When I was a freshman in high school, my English teacher made us write poems based off of random postcards she had disseminated amongst the class. I picked up a postcard with Le Blanc-Seing on it. In short, the painting depicts a woman riding a horse through a forest, an ordinary scenario, except for the fact that different views of the rider and horse seem to be shuffled amongst the trees. Immediately, the postcard set my mind to dreaming up different fanciful situations and poetic descriptions of the scene before me; this surrealist painting appeared unlimited in its power to evoke artistic inspiration.
Nevertheless, at the exhibit when confronted with the original it deflated my previous perception of the piece. I was expecting something… more. I don’t know what exactly, but it failed to perform. I was left disappointed for some reason. Over the course of my meander through the exhibit, I returned to this painting several times as if expecting it to drop the charade and unveil the glory it had shown me in postcard form only a few years prior. It didn’t change. The original almost seemed less valuable than its postcard equivalent.
Of course, I should give Magritte the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps my imagination has waned with age, or I’m over romanticizing my memory of the image. On the other hand, a quick Google search of the painting brought up a flurry of copies, each slightly different than the original: some were cropped, others were slightly darker or lighter. Suddenly, I realized that if I had never seen the original I wouldn’t be able to discern which one of these was closest to the legitimate. In fact, even after seeing the original I still can’t tell which one mirrors the painting. Probably none of them do! And when looking at each of these permutations I noticed that they all had the potential to inspire a completely different poem. For example, in one of the images the leaves on these trees are brown, which might suggest fall as a possible setting. In another the green tones are harsh and almost neon, perhaps suggesting a more futuristic or alien environment.In conclusion, any piece of artwork can have an infinite number of permutations, with each permutation containing an infinite number of possibilities (or permutations). My prediction for the digital age of imagery is that the value of the original will decline or cease to exist. I’ve noticed this trend in my own artistic endeavors; whenever I make a sketch and scan it onto the computer, after editing and compositing the image, I throw the original sketch away. I value a painting based on its ability to inspire and evoke ideas. And if a copy can get the job done just as well as the original, then I see no overwhelming value in the original save ceremony.

Cinema Trumps the Imagination

Think how much different movie theaters would be if the lights weren’t turned down. The sound of our neighbors munching on their popcorn, chatting on their cell phones, and quelling their weeping babes would be deafening! We’d demand to rent! But what if that wasn’t an option? Welcome to traditional theater! According to Sturken and Cartwright, “traditionally… the spectator was always perceived to have more power than the object of the gaze (or person looked at).” During Shakespeare’s time, and even in Ancient Greece, the audience added their own running commentary alongside the action on stage. Sometimes audience members were so moved by a tragic performance that they felt inclined to jump on stage and rewrite the ending. As a random side note, in Greece if you like a performer you would drop a stack of ceramic plates at their feet to show your appreciation. However, it seems like audiences have quelled their debauchery for the most part and especially in movie theaters. Without the solidarity of a dark theater where silence is ferociously advertised (“Don’t spoil the movie by adding your own soundtrack!” and “Silence is Golden.”) voyeurism would be impossible. Even in theaters now the lights are turned down reflecting a more cinematic approach to seclusion. Voyeurism, this desire to secretly spy into the lives of others, is also mirrored in today’s online networks like facebook and myspace. Instead of the many watching a few, it’s now a few (or one) watching many; the quintessential example is GoogleEarth, the whole world is under the gaze of the viewer. Basically, the audience has drastically diminished in size. On the other hand, the perceived godlike omnipotence of the solitary viewer is only a fallacy. Now, whether or not this silent singularity regresses an audience to an infantile stage of perception is debatable, but the fact that a dark theater obscures your acknowledgement of those around you definitely influences your reception of the film; it doesn’t allow you to immediately process or analyze this huge wall of visual information. In the dark theater, a movie can speak to you directly in a more one-on-one fashion. Coupled with the power of spectacle, a film can easily suede your rationality by overloading your senses (thus the challenge of being a multimedia scholar). Without the opinions of your neighbors working as a sort of superego (or shoulder angel) to your intake of the film, the object of gaze has complete control over your thoughts and worse, your imagination. For example, after watching the Harry Potter movies I forgot what my previously envisioned Harry looked like. Now when I read the books I can only imagine Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter. This is a trivial example, but a potent one that showcases the dominance of film and images over the individual viewer. One of the ways to counter the brainwashing effects of cinema is to attend a movie premeire; a rowdy crowd usually revives your sense of perspective.

Studium, Punctum, and Leaflets Galore!

Studium/Punctum:
In this stark house of few luxuries there looms a dark giant jukebox in the corner; it is completely out of place. This jukebox appears to be the house’s only treasure, but no one is using it for its intended purpose (i.e. to play music). In fact the owners of the jukebox, perhaps the little girl’s parents, have left it in charge of babysitting the child. Obviously the machine is a poor choice for a chaperon, because the little girl is crawling away; it can only sit and watch. However, because the jukebox is the only authority figure in the room, I immediately impose the responsibility of the girl’s safety on the jukebox. This unconscious personification of inanimate objects is why I overlaid the jukebox image with a concerned guardian type figure. The jukebox is caught between wanting to help, and it’s own inability to do so. Juxtaposing this image with the funeral scene speaks to the futility of a machine and a man’s desire to act; the struggle between wanting to do something, and your own inability or lack of power. Also like the younger generation watching the old pass away, our material possessions are forced to watch us die.

Leaflet:
I must admit that this leaflet fails to persuade. I wanted my second image to contain my target audience, a businessman trapped on top of a skyscraper. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any images that fit the bill. The only picture I could find of a ledge overlooking a city had a pigeon on it. And the only picture I could find of a man sitting on a ledge was this red-faced British man holding some sort of ticket. But I had to make do. The target audience of this leaflet was businessmen who are so wrapped up in their own affairs that they don’t pay any attention to larger world crises. I imagined the leaflets being dropped during lunch hour in New York. However, perceiving the stubbornness of my audience I took up their perspective in my indexical sign. I pictured a chatty businessman on his cell phone picking up the leaflet and scribbling down a phone number on it, completely oblivious of its message. I was banking on the hope that if these corporate go-getters had a heart the innocence of “The Last Polar Bear” would touch them.

Ouroboros within the Cartoon Industry

This is a story that was passed down to me by Steve Bennet. First off, Steve Bennet is a Japanese prodigy. He began illustrating cartoons at the lowly age of twelve, so I trust his word. According to him the origins of anime, Japanese cartoons, are deeply rooted in the legacy of Walt Disney. In fact, anime is simply a Japanese appropriation of Disney style animation. I mean the similarities between the two are uncanny. The big eyes, big hair, and unrealistic body proportions all point to the same conclusion, that appropriations can occur across cultures, as well as within them. However, it doesn't stop there. At first anime was an alternative to the hegemonic cartoons of Hanna-Barbera and the like. But when English dubbed cartoons like Speed Racer and Sailor Moon began to gain popularity with American audiences, the marginal anime culture began to slip into the mainstream. Soon more and more Japanese cartoons were being aired on Cartoon Network: Pokemon, Dragonball Z, etc. In fact, anime has become so popular in the United States that American cartoonist are now copying anime techniques! For example, the ever popular Powerpuff Girls are basically a permutation of the Japanese style. Even the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles have been redrawn for modern audiences to look like anime characters. This cyclical exploitation, or "sharing," of styles seems to have no end; they continuously feed on one another; like the image of the ouroboros, the two serpents continue to munch on the other's tail. Last year a show called Demashita! Powerpuff Girls Z was released in Japan with the Powerpuff Girls redrawn in anime style. What? Now they're redrawing a copy of a copy!