Is a fish by any other name still a fish?

Stanley Fish’s article, “How to Recognize a Poem When You See One” makes some very interesting points about human perception and art, especially poetry. It is not nearly as important what the artist has in mind (or if it is art at all) as what the audience perceives. This is what makes art (or in Fish’s scenario, poetry). For example, If you are in a contemporary art museum, like the MOMA and you see, say a mop and bucket in a corner with a coat hung over the handle of the mop (or maybe even a urinal). If you sit for a while and observe I bet at least a few people will look for the label with the artists name and the piece’s title. It has to do with context. If you expect a certain thing in a certain setting you find it. In psychology 101 we talked about Gestalt, which is basically the idea that mind will always try to make sense of the world and all the disjointed images by putting them into a cohesive whole. Culturally and socially this happens as well. We come to expect and understand the world in a certain way and we, in our minds magically make it come together as a cohesive whole.

Fish furthers his idea by pointing out that certain behaviors are situational contingent like the example of the student raising his hand in class as a signal to communicate. In America this an accepted and culturally constructed behavior with many understood implications. But Fish says that certain behaviors are only accepted in certain situations. If someone where to raise their hand in, say a grocery store people might think they are stretching or trying reach an item on high shelf. In a church, a raised arm may appear to be a sign of extreme spiritual movement. Again it is about culturally derived construction.

One basic problem I have with Fish’s assertion that “objects are made not found” is that objects are material, have substance and exist, no matter if students are there to interpret it as poetry or art.

Kairos and “Right Measure”

The Kinneavy article "Kairos in Classicaland Modern Rhetorical Theory" quotes Plato as saying, “Everything that is good is fair, and the fair is not without proportion; and the animal which is to be fair must have due proportion.” According to Kinneavy, Plato’s statement gets at the heart of what he calls “right measure,” which is an essential aspect of kairos, along with time and action.

To me, this quote means that everything should be done in moderation (even moderation? — I think Oscar Wilde said something like that). Back to Plato: he is asserting that the aesthetically pleasing is never extreme. It is tempered in the middle. We experience this phenomenon in our everyday lives with people, art, and performance. For example, if an actor shows too much emotion we say it is overly sentimental and he/she is over acting, but if there is too little feeling we say he/she is cold, unfeeling, and can’t act. What is beautiful in performance (and all art) is found in the middle way. Hmmm… This sounds a little like the Tao Te Ching.

Plato gets in trouble because what is accepted in a particular culture as the “middle” changes with time, as popular tastes vary. So then the art of creating something beautiful is always kairotic in the sense that the artist (actor or otherwise) must understand the “middle” that is culturally resonant to the milieu in which he or she is working. Then what about universality? Does it exist?

Another problem with the Platonic idea of “fair in due proportions” is that there is a moral implication to his conception of beauty. This seems flawed to our modern sensibilities, because the moral goodness of someone is not tied to the outside aesthetic but is a separate, internal quality. We would not say that John Merrick (the elephant man) was more evil than, say, Pol Pot, nor that Britney Spears is a better person than Mother Teresa. This brings up a final point: it seems that if ideas of beauty change over time, then ideas about what is morally good must be just as variable.

Reflections on Hamlet in Stratford, Ontario 2008

The first thing that surprised me was the stage. I expected it to be a traditional Shakespearean thrust stage, but it was a semi-circle that allowed the actors to enter and exit into the audience as well as stage right, stage left or at the back of the stage. This flexibility was taken advantage of throughout the play. It created more interest by allowing several actors to enter the stage at once. The set was fairly pared down, which is consistent with a traditional Shakespearean stage. The trap door in the center of the stage was well utilized as a way to quickly dress the stage. It was also a good way to dig up Yorick’s skull and Ophelia’s grave.

The most visible surprise in this production was the costuming choice. The choice of particularly Scandinavian Edwardian era clothes was a clever and unique approach. The costumes looked as if they were stolen from the set of Ingmar Bergman’s film Fanny and Alexander. But we still got to see some of the beautiful Elizabethan costumes in The Mouse-Trap Play. I really thought it worked because during the play I was completely transported to 1910 Denmark. The details were subtle and well thought out.

I know by talking to others on our trip that the quick pace of the dialog threw some of you off, but I enjoyed the speediness immensely. It increased the humor, especially with Hamlet, and created a high level of action in the play that other productions have seemed to lack. For example, the BBC’s Royal Shakespeare Company version of Hamlet from 1980, which I watched in preparation for the trip, seemed to drag on and move so slowly. I realize now that it was due to the speed of the actor’s speech.

In my previous post, I described how I envisioned Act I scene iv of the Stratford, Ontario version of Hamlet to be performed. Now that I have seen the play, I think in many ways, the scene lived up to my expectations but it can never be exactly like it is in my mind’s eye. For example, the fog was used liberally when King Hamlet’s ghost entered, as I pictured it, but I was surprised that he was dressed in a long regal white cape and a crown. I think his Elizabethan-looking royal garb was a little strange in light of the 1910-era costumes though out the rest of the play. Even when we see King Hamlet’s ghost again in the bedroom scene he is wearing an all white suit (that Tacarra said he stole from John Travolta’s dad in Saturday Night Fever). In the Stratford production, Marcellus was portrayed as a relatively flat character hanging around for little more than scenery but I saw Marcellus as more of a developed character who was visibly afraid yet still a dutiful guard.

I am really impressed and I think it was an excellent production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. I say this because over the past few days I have been going over scenes in my mind and reliving the experience. Good live theater lingers and stays with you. I even had a dream about the play. During the billiard scene with Laertes and Claudius (Act IV, scene vii), I was in the front row and got hit in the face with a pool ball. I was bleeding and the actors carried me off through the stage.

How I Envision Hamlet Act I Scene iv

The stage is semi-dark stage with foggy mist (if the production budget allows for it). In the middle of the stage a small fire pit burns for warmth. As Marcellus, Horatio, and Hamlet enter stage left, in the distance jovial voices, music and simulated gunfire are heard off stage, signifying Claudius’s all night drinking party. Marcellus is dressed in a medieval uniform, chainmail under a white sheath with the Hamlet family crest on the chest. He carries a large staff with a sharp blade and dons a metal helmet with a metal nose cover extending down the middle. He also wears a dark, thick cape to keep warm during his all night guard duty. Marcellus is visibly afraid but is still trying to protect Prince Hamlet and Horatio by leading the group on stage. Horatio enters behind Marcellus bundled in a thigh length coat and hat that covers his ears. He is also visibly afraid yet alert. Hamlet wanders on stage last, wearing a hooded cape in all black because he is still mourning his father’s death. He is looking around as if in disbelief and confusion.

Marcellus stands on the thrust with his hand on his forehead, eyes squinted, peering in the audience, keeping watch. Horatio and Hamlet stand near the fire rubbing their hands for warmth. When King Hamlet’s ghost appears the three men join together stage left near the thrust. Horatio is praying and Marcellus is looking terrified as they stand behind Hamlet who is down on one knee. Slowly and noisily King Hamlet’s ghost comes down the thrust. He is wearing an open beaver and a chainmail shirt. He says nothing, but stomps and rattles. As Hamlet speaks to the ghost, King Hamlet says nothing, walks stage right and motions for Hamlet to follow him. As Hamlet goes after the ghost, Horatio and Marcellus try unsuccessfully to stop him by pulling at his arms, blocking his path and drawing their swords. Hamlet breaks free by drawing his own sword and pursues the ghost off stage right. Horatio and Marcellus follow him offstage. Immediately, King Hamlet’s ghost re-enters stage right, followed close behind by only Hamlet.