Timeless Harmony

I think Doug makes a very interesting point about thought and it’s relation to Hernandez’s Clockwork Angels. While I think the sequence of images and words plays an important part in our connection with the novel, I also believe Hernandez’s plot line and character relations inspire thought interaction.
Throughout reading the text, I had to stop and figure out what exactly the relationship between Temper and Amy was. I think part of the reason why I had to do this was not only because half the time I needed to read the page 5 times before I could piece together what was going on, but also because I was intrigued how Hernandez incorporated a lesbian love story considering the Victorian time period. Also, many of the times when Temper and Amy are shown expressing romantic feelings toward one another, there are no panels; the images take up the entire page and give the feeling of moving beyond the page into our reality. This also plays into the concept of timelessness we were discussing in class. By showing the images of Temper and Amy without gutters, I think Hernandez shows the timelessness of a basic love story, but at the same time suspends us in time because of the homosexual aspect, which is a prevalent issue and signifier in the world today. Similarly, this relates to Sarah’s connection between Levinas’s concept of the human face and Hernandez’s similar depictions of Temper’s and Amy’s face.
By having their faces extremely similar, there is positive universality and sense of timelessness. The readers can incorporate their own interpretations of the characters and their actions, which allow the reader to make a personal connection to the story and message. The reader learns through reading the text to not pay attention to the specific character, rather their thoughts and emotions they express. I feel Hernandez is encouraging the reader to look past gender boundaries focus on the universal emotions we, as human beings, all feel and experience in terms of relationships.
As sort of a side note (and I know this isn’t exactly a smooth transition, but this thought just came in a stream of consciousness), I also think the theme of timelessness connects with Temper’s ability to read the dead. With this ability, Temper is bringing the past into the present and connecting it with the future. Each of the authors we have read this semester has employed, in a sense, Temper’s ability; they read the past of their ancestors and work towards incorporating values, principles, beliefs, and traditions into people’s lives today. This synthesis of time will ultimately create a harmony, which Temper and Amy experience in the final panel, within our lives.

Signifiers in Clockwork Angels

In Lea Hernandez’s book, Clockwork Angels, there are several signifiers, including the necklace worn by one of the protagonists, Temperance Bane. Temperance wears a locket shaped like an insect that resembles a cicada. A cicada is an insect that molts its shell occasionally and emerges from the dull, dead case with a fresh, glittering shell. Inside Temperance’s locket are pictures of her and her father, who she does not initially realize is Stuart Parrish, a man who is just as evil as her mother and who is connected with the villain Sacerdote. Temperance undergoes a cicada-like transformation and rebirth in this book. She separates herself from her father and her mother by following her Uncle Jules Bane’s advice and giving herself up to love for Amelia. The cicada image is prominent in the sequence in which Amelia and Temperance have sex and the doves symbolically fly off the roof of the house. Temperance and Amelia are freed in this book, just as a cicada is freed from its dead shell. The cicada signifies rebirth and Temperance is given a chance at lifelong love when Milly gives Amelia her heart. Similarly, Milly and Amelia are both reborn when they sprout wings and transform into their true form as angels.

Another signifier in Clockwork Angels is thoughts of the dead. Temperance Bane possesses a talent for “necrometry,” which is the ability to read the dead. This talent is exploited by her mother and Temperance resolves not to read the dead anymore, until her skill is needed by her uncle to solve a mysterious murder case. Temperance agrees to do a reading, and she realizes that she is only asked to read when people need to have a suspicion confirmed. She says, “Most people that came to me already knew the answers to their questions.” Temperance is able to read the final thoughts of the dead. This suggests that humans are signified by their thoughts. The female characters in this book are not easily distinguishable; their features are very similar. This is to further expound the point that humans are not signified by their outward form, but by their inner thoughts. Sacerdote appears to be human, but he is not because his thoughts are not human; he is a monster. Amelia is not fully human, but she becomes human at the end of the book through the reciprocation and recognition of love by Temperance. Humans are signified by their thoughts and emotions, not by their outward appearance.

Hernandez’s suggestion that humans are signified by their thoughts and emotions relates to Levinas’s exploration of the human face. He encouraged people to look past the individual features of the face and to listen to what comes from the mouth of the speaker. Speech is thought verbalized; thus, Levinas and Hernandez are making the same point. The human being is signified by thoughts and emotions, even if these are not tangible or readily seen.

Today’s discussion really got me thinking about what Hernandez is trying to signify through Temperance’s ability to “read the thoughts of dead people.” To read the thoughts of dead people would mean that, it sounds redundant to say, when we die we are still capable of thinking. The ability to do so, to think, to use thoughts, in death, let alone life, is puzzling for me. I began thinking about what I do when I think and, what it really comes down to, is having these little blobs of words floating around in my mind; the things I say are usually written out in my mind in one way or another. My thoughts, therefore, are just another kind of strange, invisible signifiers prompting me for some kind of signified (more thoughts, speech, etc.). Sometimes I’m not even sure how the thoughts become something signified which, again, leaves me wondering how one could read the thoughts of another person when I can’t even make sense of some of the things in my own head.

This all leads me to believe that Hernandez, through her style, the way the speech and thought bubbles are placed, the way some parts seem disjointed, is attempting to show us a piece of ourselves; a piece of ourselves that we may share with Temperance. On one level, the comic itself shows us the thoughts of characters and the fact that these characters are outside of us, dead, image stills in the medium of comics, it’s as if the reader is capable of reading the mind of a dead person like Temperance. On another level, these images, captions, words, were all the thoughts of Lea Hernandez, a kind of “dead” author—somewhere else outside of us and the comic itself. So that it’s as if we are reading her mind in a way as well; through reading Clockwork Oranges we are reading a part of Hernandez’s mind at the moment she wrote a particular image or word. On a third level, for me at least, these words and images make us more aware of our own thoughts, those of which we are normally dead to. Because Hernandez is so different in the way she formats the images and texts in the comic, my mind was constantly second guessing itself, asking whether the sequence of images/words made sense this way or that. Thus, like Temperance, the reader is placed into a world where they are in a constant interaction with thought: the ultimate signifier. Hernandez is showing us that it doesn’t take some supernatural gift to read the minds of the dead. This is something we do everyday in picking up a book, looking at an image, or reading a comic.

IMAGE of MAN

As I continued to read Understanding Comics, I could not get the image of McCloud “praying” and asking why are we so involved? In his clip of various cartoon charters with human faces (pg30). The image is so astounding because it conjures the idea of religion, and praying to a comic? No, we created the comic…so are we praying to ourselves? Why do we see faces in any simple dots and lines? It seemed to be a desire, a desperation McCloud is pointing out. Why does the “other” hold so much importance. Soad I think you really captured the idea of children’s fascination with cartoons. Cartoons are simple; they are entertaining, and reach children on a level of comedy. The simple nature of a cartoon, the simple shapes, draws the child in because they can understand indentify with the simplicity. As we get older, we view cartoons differently, we search for a deeper meaning, the plot, the protagonist…we ask why? What is the purpose? Then we have to view the “other” to find it.
McCloud’s clip of praying to the comic reminded me of an element of Marxist Critique. Marx explained the ideology of the human being is its desperate need for community, but also to create itself in nature and even beyond nature. Marx came up with the theory of the creation of God by man. He believed God was a creation of man in order for man to validate his existence. We believe that man is a creation of God in his image, or is this the other way around? Did man create God in his own image? Marx continues to identify that man had to believe that there were answers, and they were not simply found on earth. The unexplained had to be explained and manifested in some form, what better form than the ultimate “Human” the immortal MAN, GOD. Marx points out that man needs to answer to something; he needs submission in order for answers and explanations to validate his existence in a world which does not provide a book of answers. So man creates his own “teacher” and his own book of answers in the only form that will allow him to feel he matters. Man reflects himself beyond himself. He is able to project humanity beyond this world, and still retain a hold on his existence.
Magic and myth also correlate with this theory. It provides reason and explanation because after all we are reasonable beings, we must find the answers that when we ask WHY, we are not left we empty space? The closer we can relate to the explained the more we feel we can validate our existence.
McCloud illustrates that words and pictures have driven toward opposite sides of the spectrum, but meet in the middle at a more basic level. Could we have been our creation of this separation of the picture and word? We did invent both. And if so, then we are actually creating a reason for our own existence by finding a meaning out of a meaning we invented and created. The answer is a reflection of the self.

As a child, I would read comics every Sunday morning when I got home from Church. My sister, Jenna, and I would fight over the rainbow pages of the Sunday Record, looking to glean whatever we could from Garfield, Jump Start, Ziggy, Cathy, and, of course, good old Charlie Brown. This practice was close to ritual. We would throw the rest of the newspaper pages, Arts and Society, Business, Finance, World News, and who knows whatever down, strewing them across my mother’s newly pickled hardwood floor without a moment’s thought. Then, when my dad needed a section, Jenna would tell him that I was the one who had thrown them helter-skelter, even though she “tried to stop me.” I would huff and puff as I was made to pick up the sections and neatly fold them again while Jenna would look on with a mean smirk and glowing blue-green eyes, the same color as my own. But then again, this was the girl who had promised, “Hit me. I promise I won’t tell mom.” Which I feel for every time, never failing to deprive myself of dessert for any given week. I can remember my mom’s strong, calm voice as she reminded me, “Courtney, we do not hit people- even if they ask us to.” But that’s another therapy session entirely.
Needless to say, my exposure to comics was limited. Aside from the Sunday funnies and my uncle’s yellowing Archie collection we kept stored in our garage, I didn’t have much knowledge of comics or comic books. Finding out that Superman was a picture before he was a real guy would have completely blown away my concept of reality, in an overly dramatic explosion that would have made Siegel and Shuster proud.
You know how there are some things that you know that you don’t know? Well, as I got older I became quite aware of the cult following for the comic genre. I knew that there were people out there that ate, slept, and breathed the stuff, but what I didn’t understand was WHY. So when it came time to enroll in courses my junior year, I decided that this one class, Special Topics: Comics in America, sounded like it might actually be something different to learn about. Something cool. Which is where I was first introduced to my good friend, Scott McCloud.
Little did I know that at least three of the courses I would take in my time at Loyola would require the text. Foolishly, after the first comics course ended, I tried to sell the thing back, only to get the ever-frustrating “no value” response from the cashier. Now, I am not shy in my deeply rooted bitter sentiments toward the bookstore- it infuriates me when I buy a 200 dollar textbook in September and receive 4 dollars when I sell it back in December (I usually end up just donating my books just to spite them). BUT my initial anger in the “no value” situation eventually turned into pure, unadulterated joy when I found out that I would be using it again, and in fact, more than once. Take that, eFollett.
In spite of my raving tirade against the bookstore, there is a point at which I am hoping to arrive (hope being the operative word, anyway). This book- this zany, crazy book with its awkward and undoubtedly dorky author—it’s got something to it! In each class that it was mandated, I learned to look at a different part of the pages, eventually coming to the realization that this McCloud guy, despite his graph-paper jacket and Harry Potter-esque lightning shirt ensemble, actually has some pretty good sense after all. And it wasn’t just in classes that I thought about his meanings.
Suddenly, I was walking around (compliments of p.93), wondering (similarly to Doug’s statement in class about his present state in relation to the office of a given professor), “Hey, how DO I know if things are still there when I’m not!?” Which, aside from being a very unapologetically ego-centric thought, lead to other philosophical questioning, like “And how do I know that things exist when I’m sleeping,” etc. etc. Whoa, Court, don’t get ahead of yourself here, you’re not Descartes now will you ever be. But still, the thoughts raced through my mind faster than- dare I say it- a speeding bullet. Sorry, couldn’t resist.
One of my favorite panels in the whole book is on p. 83. It is a picture of “The Big ‘N,” a painting by Al Held which is just mostly blank space aside from two little triangles on the top and bottom. This is just one of many things that McCloud includes in his book that just completely blew my mind. So much so, that I showed it to my roommates- and, let’s be honest, when is it ever cool to show your homework to your roommates? Well, it is when it comes to Scott McCloud.
Writing this blog now, I am almost ashamed that I tried to sell this book back. It has quickly become one of my favorites, a tribute to an “invisible art,” but also to a previously invisible psychology that I had never considered. The relationship between the words, the panels, and their meanings do not leave once a page is turned (or, do they? haha). Every frame is separate. Every word and phrase is as well. And yet, it is the symphony of text and image that brings the meaning home. McCloud sums up his book in the final pages, “and all that’s needed is the desire to be heard—the will to learn—and the ability to see.” Well, I don’t know if that’s “all” that is needed. But it sure is a darn good place to start looking. And at least this time, my search for knowledge won’t end up with me having to pick newspaper sections up off the floor.

That's What Christmas is All About, Charlie Brown

“In truth, don’t all lines carry with them an expressive quality?”(124) Last semester, while I was studying in Paris, I took and Art History course that met every Wednesday for two hours in the Musee d’Orsay (for those who have never been—PLEASE GO—and for those who have already visited the museum I’m sure you know what I’m talking about). It’s home to works of the master’s of their trade: Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Seurat, and the list goes on…Several of these artists (if not all), mastered the technique of the expressive line, and communicated with their audience through their tones and brushstrokes, rather than expressly through the subject of the piece. McCloud references their work, and how the use of line conveyed abstract emotion in a concrete detail.

It is not difficult at all to group these artists into the category of “masters of their medium”, but McCloud challenges the readers to look past the proclaimed masters, and specifically references other artists, like Charles Shulz. I naturally consider him a very talented artist, but would never think of comparing him to Monet. McCloud pushes me to ask myself…why not? He is, after all, “a storyteller, a creator who has something to say through comics and devotes all his energy to controlling his medium and refining its ability to convey messages effectively”(180). His lines should then be considered expressive, too: McCloud notes their soft curves that reflect the mood of his stories of “Peanuts”. A Charlie Brown Christmas is a perfect example of McCloud’s point: when Linus stands on the empty stage, illuminated by a singular stage light, and tell what the true meaning of Christmas really is, he is clearly voicing Shulz’s opinion of society’s commercial take on a sacred holiday. But from the soft colors, to the smooth lines, to the Linus’ calm voice, Shulz is making his point approachable to adults and children alike.

As McCloud notes in his last chapter, “the wall of ignorance that prevents so many human beings from seeing each other clearly can only be breached by communication”(198). Each of these artists, including McCloud are combining words and images to express their thoughts and ideas—in a way that is certainly still subject to individual interpretation—but it is better to say it, than not say it all.

Joseph Merrick's Face

http://content.answers.com/main/content/img/oxford/Oxford_Body/019852403x.elephant-man.1.jpg

Here is a picture of Joseph Merrick, better known as “The Elephant Man.” One website describes him as being “history’s most horribly deformed man.” As is to be expected, he had a horribly tragic life. His disease started to develop around the age of four, and after awhile he was ostracized by his community and family alike. He ended up joining the circus as a sideshow freak. In his 20s, he met a doctor who claimed he could fix Merrick’s deformities. Merrick died in the hospital when he was 27.

http://media.eurekalert.org/release_graphics/EMorph5.jpg

Now here is another “picture” of Joseph Merrick. It’s not actually Merrick, but it is a depiction of what he most likely looked like if it wasn’t for his deformities. Modern forensic science and technology has allowed researchers to examine the structure of Merrick’s skull and create an approximation of his non-deformed face.

What does this have to do with Understanding Comics? Well, both the pictures of Merrick and McCloud explore how a viewer reacts to a human face. Merrick, because of his deformities, was labeled “The Elephant Man,” and therefore had his humanity diminished. He was even shunned by his own parents because he was so grotesque and inhuman to them.

Conversely, the speculative face of Merrick is an average Joe; nothing really exceptional save maybe a particularly low brow line. It’d be hard to imagine someone who would look upon this face as offensive or alien. Similarly, McCloud locates the translatability of comics in their cartoonish method; indeed, the more cartoon something is, the easier it is to relate to. Basically, cartoon here means common or inoffensive. Something is easy to relate to because it is so vague and expected.

This is why Merrick’s real face is so shocking while his “normal” face is rather boring. The deformed face is so specific, so completely unique, that humanity has a hard time seeing the humanity. Any person would be hard-pressed to say Merrick is not, in fact, a human. Nevertheless, it was his painfully tragic situation that no one could see that humanity in his face.