Essay on Mannequins

 Essay I wrote on the word Mannequin for my about clothes class. I LOVE Jean Rhys. 

“Years later, speaking to a Frenchman in Paris, I said, ‘I can abstract myself from my body.’ He looked so shocked that I asked if I was speaking bad French” - Jean Rhys

Jean Rhys, in her short story Mannequin, displays the paradox of the mannequin; the assertion of the human within the artificial. Unlike the plastic bodies currently used for dress display, the protagonist, Anna, works as a mannequin, modeling apparel for Parisian shoppers. She details the transformation of her coworkers into objects of exhibition; “There were twelve mannequins… six of them were lunching, the others still paraded, goddess-like, till their turn came for rest and refreshment. Each of the twelve was a distinct and separate type: each of the twelve knew her type and kept to it, practising rigidly in clothing, manner, voice and conversation”. Anna refers to her coworkers as mannequins, even in private, effectively dehumanizing the women in the manner required of the job. Their actions are described as embodying the idealized female forms they temporarily present themselves as; they “[parade]” around in a “goddess-like” manner, until their time for “rest and refreshment”, using feminine, sanitized language for their behavior. Subsequently, she details their non-individuality, while they are each “distinct” and “separate”, all the women can only exist as “types”, without variety or personhood. Momentarily the performance of this idealized femininity is alluded to, through their “practice” of the needed “clothing, manner, voice and conversation”. Rhys outlines the central paradox of mannequinism, the interplay between the plastic, the generic, the “type”, and the apparent humanic facets of their existence. Within the short story, this exchange is related to some universal feminine experience, that of being viewed as an object, while simultaneously claiming personhood. 

Storefront mannequins similarly meld the distinctions between the human and the artificial. Historically, the mannequin has alternated between an object solely used for clothing display, and an attempt to accurately represent the multifaceted nature of being. The dual origins of the mannequin itself embody this distinction; the earliest example of this mode of clothing display may have been the wax effigies of monarchs displayed after their passing. These figures, created to replace the embalmed body within a coffin, claim to accurately depict the unique details of these godly figures. Their specificity, and attempt at humanization, compromise their value; their use exists only in their assertion of personhood. The origin of the storefront mannequin, on the other hand, exists solely for the display of ready-made, depersonalized dress. Tailors, after the advent of the Industrial Revolution and standardized clothing sizes, created headless figures out of chicken wire for window display. These cyborg-like creatures disavowed specificity, instead hoping to abstract the human figure into the newly created standardized sizing. The modern mannequin seems to be a hodgepodge of these dual origins; their apparent plasticity and mass production is reminiscent of the tailors’ displays, while their differing gestures and humanic qualities are evocative of the monarch wax doll. The spectator is therefore left to view an abstracted, lifelike figure, simultaneously claiming and disavowing personhood. Within retail, the vagueness of the model allows the customer to place themselves in the position of the mannequin, imagining themselves donning the same dress. However, as the viewer themselves, they begin to simultaneously embody the spectator and object, the human and the plastic. 

This merging of spectator and object is dramatized within Virginia Woolf’s short story, The New Dress. Mabel, an insecure attendant of Mrs. Dalloway’s party, purchases a new, and out of fashion, dress for the occasion. Within the dressing room, while observing herself in the mirror, the dress allows her to embody a kind of wholeness previously unattainable; “there looked at her… charming girl, the core of herself, the soul of herself; and it was not vanity only, not only self-love that made her think it was good, tender, and true”. Mabel discovers the pleasure of embodying both spectator and object, staring at herself yet encountering a separate, “charming girl”. However, this dissociated existence simultaneously depicts the “core of herself”, or some universal truth only attainable through this merging of perspectives. The storefront mannequin ideally functions as the mode by which this fusion can be actualized. 

It is only within the non-personhood of the mannequin that this merging of self and other is found. Within Rhys’s story Mannequin, this status becomes permanent; “Anna, dressed in the black cotton, chemise-like garment of the mannequin off duty was trying to find her way along dark passages”. Anna, even outside of the realm of her work, can only exist as a “mannequin off duty”, or the simultaneous spectator and object. This status is implied to be that of all women, negotiating between their plasticity and personhood. 

Works Cited:

Rhys, Jean. "Mannequin." The Left Bank and Other Stories, W. W. Norton & Company, 1992, pp. 69-77.

Rhys, Jean. Smile Please: An Unfinished Autobiography. Constable and Company Ltd, 1979.

Sara K. Schneider, Design Issues, Vol. 13, No. 3 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 5-18 (14 pages)

https://doi.org/10.2307/1511936

Woolf, Virginia. "New Dress." Mrs. Dalloway's Party, Harcourt, Inc., 1973, pp. 98-102.

Trufelman, Avery. "Our Mannequins, Ourselves." Articles of Interest, Apple Podcasts, 10 May 2023.

Om Shanti Om Essay

 I'm like so not proud of this essay but posting it anyway. Silly essay on the Bollywood masterpiece Om Shanti Om. 

Observation and Embodiment in Om Shanti Om

Farah Khan’s Om Shanti Om uses convention and artifice to advocate for the transformative, embodied emotions of cinema. The protagonist of the film, Om, begins as a struggling junior artist hoping to achieve stardom. He is infatuated with the saturated, heightened world of Bollywood cinema, which manifests in an undying desire for a famous actress, Shantipriya. Om and Shantipriya eventually fall in love, only for Shantipriya to be brutally murdered by her secret husband. Om is similarly killed, but is reincarnated as the movie star he always dreamed of. However, within his newly reincarnated form, Om has forgotten his former self. Eventually, his memories are returned, and he hatches a plot to take revenge on Shantipriya’s husband. Throughout the film, Khan uses song and dance sequences to establish Om’s singular ability to both venerate and participate in the transformative world of cinema. The heightened artifice of the numbers both amplify the emotions of the plot, while simultaneously suggesting the sequences allow the audience to embody these presented feelings. Om’s engagement with the dance sequences mirrors this embodiment; the numbers track his emotional journey towards his authentic, cinephilic self, in which he can simultaneously participate in, and appreciate the artifice of, cinema. 

Khan uses Dhoom Taana to establish Om’s ability to paradoxically view and participate in the saturated world of song and dance sequences. This transformative mode of observation creates an emotional journey towards the embodied sensations only possible within film. At the beginning of the sequence, Om is viewing the premiere of Shantipriya’s new film within a movie theater. The movie begins, and the camera becomes immersed in the world of the presented film. Shantipriya dances in a saturated realm of color, while the camera cuts between her and the background dancers. These cuts place the audience innside the world of the movie, breaking the barrier between the presented film and the supposed viewer identification with Om, sitting in the audience. However, as the viewer is previously aligned with Om, this immersion into the film suggests his own personal engrossment with the movie-going experience. Subsequently, the camera cuts to the male star of the film, and the quality of the film stock decreases.  The camera returns to Shantipriya and the film quality increases, effectively alternating between a complete immersion in the world of the presented film, and a reminder of the audience’s separation from the scene. Shantipriya stares at the camera while she dances, while the male star gazes across the screen at her, centering Shantipriya as the vehicle for audience engagement. After returning to the male star, the camera cuts to Om in the audience, similarly viewing Shantipriya longingly, suggesting that Om identifies with the position of the male star within the film. Subsequently, the male star gazes at Shantipriya with his back facing the camera, and the camera zooms in on Shantipriya again. Om appears behind Shantipriya, completing his audience identification with the male star, as he has officially replaced his position within the musical number. Om follows Shantipriya around the center of the frame, disrupting her centrality and visualizing his enthusiastic obsession with her. Shantipriya seems disturbed by this intrusion, frequently pushing Om to the side and attempting to recenter herself. Om alternates between dancing with Shantipriya and the background dancers, reestablishing the dynamic between viewer and participator within the film. Within Dhoom Taana, Khan establishes an idealized form of viewership represented through Om, in which the audience participates in the world of the film. This viewer participation is visualized through the separation of the low-quality film stock and Om’s place in the dance sequence, allowing the audience to both revel in the spectacle of the number while simultaneously participating in it. Om’s ability to completely personify the emotions of the presented dance number are finalized through his inclusion within the song itself; an emotional journey towards this embodied form of viewership is established. 

Khan highlights the mechanics of filmmaking within Main Agar Kahoon to suggest that embodied sensation can only exist in artifice. These heightened feelings track the emotional journey of the film, in which Om embodies a form of viewership and participation idealized in Dhoom Taana. The sequence begins as Om and Pappu lead Shantipriya into an abandoned movie set, where they have set up a dining table in front of a painted cityscape. The cityscape in no way claims realism, and instead emphasizes the artifice of the environment. Shantipriya and Om, both dressed in vibrant blues, blend seamlessly into the purple saturated backgrounds, suggesting their congruity with the magical, transformative powers of cinema. Om begins singing to Shantipriya as a strong wind blows through his hair, again emphasizing the artifice, or convention of the song sequence. Pappu then changes the lights to blue, and Shantipriya and Om are completely subsumed into the background, the visual heightening of their desire. Om stares longingly at Shantipriya, mirroring the form of viewership established by Dhoom Taana, in which Om simultaneously observes and participates in the heightened world of the film. Subsequently, Shantipriya dances off stage, traversing through the camera equipment on set. This equipment emphasizes the artificiality of the sequence, while the drab color palette contrasts with the saturated hues of the filmic world. Shantipriya runs off again, into another vivaciously saturated film set. She twirls around the center of the frame while Pappu is revealed to be blowing fake snow over her. Shantipriya seems almost unaware of the artifice of the situation, inviting the audience to follow a similar viewer identification pattern as within Dhoom Taana; the viewer is aligned with Om, attempting to embody the heightened sensations of film he simultaneously is excluded from and included within. This paradoxical viewer positioning is emphasized by Om’s position within the frame, which is slightly off center, viewing Shantipriya from the background. Shantipriya, seemingly unaware of even Om’s presence, can become sincerely immersed in the filmic world. Om, on the other hand, revels in the creation of the artifice, which allows him to temporarily embody the heightened sensations Shantipriya remains within. Main Agar Kahoon, like Dhoom Taana, uses the artificiality of film to suggest its capacity for embodied sensation. However, the emotional journey of the film is not towards the complete embodiment represented by Shantipriya, but instead, towards Om’s paradoxical viewership and participation. 

Dard E Disco marks a departure from the Om’s simultaneous viewing and embodying of dance sequences, suggesting his distance from his authentic, enthusiastically cinephilic self. Dard E Disco is presented as another film within the film, a dance sequence the newly reincarnated Om wants included in his upcoming feature. Like Dhoom Taana, the camera becomes immersed within the supposedly externally viewed sequence, allowing the audience complete access to the number. Dard E Disco opens with a multitude of female dancers, gesturing in cheetah print within a colorfully saturated world. Om enters, centered in the frame, and precedes to dance with the women. The camera continues to center him, frequently employing close ups as he sings to the audience. This centrality is reminiscent of Shantipriya’s stardom, visually reminding the audience of his newfound success. However, unlike her dance sequence in Dhoom Taana, the camera never cuts to the audience, or allows anyone to participate on the sidelines. While the dance sequence is indulgently entertaining, there is no character paradoxically observing and embodying the heightened emotions. Om has found success, yet he can no longer truly embody the sentiments of the number, until he regains his memory. Therefore, the emotional journey of the film is not marked by Om’s growing centrality within numbers; instead, Khan establishes Om’s ability to both appreciate and participate in the world of cinema, arguing that this form of embodiment must be reinstated for the emotional journey to be concluded. Near the end of the number, the camera briefly cuts to the director of the film, dancing along to Om’s singing. This contrast mirrors Om’s position in Dhoom Taana, however, the director never becomes immersed in the song sequences the way Om does previously. While Om’s stardom is well deserved, Khan still idealizes a form of simultaneous viewership and participation, which Dard E Disco marks Om’s departure from. 

Khan uses overtly stylized song sequences to highlight the transformative, endlessly enjoyable qualities of cinema. Om’s embodied enjoyment of these numbers is associated with the audience’s experience of the film, in which they can participate in and epitomize the heightened emotions of the cinema. While the movie’s journey is partially towards Om’s stardom, Khan does not represent his centrality within the later dance sequences as an idealized form of participation within cinema. Instead, she establishes Om’s ability to simultaneously view and partake in the numbers, epitomized through his obsession with Shantipriya, to illustrate the audience’s perspective. This advocacy for an embodied approach to cinema constitutes her argument within the film; the conventions of Bollywood cinema remain timeless because of their universal ability to involve the audience within the story itself. 

FML VIDEO

 

this is a video i made for personal narrative. personal asf but not so narrative.

An odd dream

 

Erdrich’s Representation of Ojibwe Ontologies in English

this is the first paper i wrote in the 2nd semester of my 2nd year of college for a class about the works of the author Louise Erdrich with prof Pence

    Louise Erdrich begins her book The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse with an epigraph that quotes Nanapush. The quote reads: “In saying the word ninadinamaganidok, or my relatives, we speak of everything that has existed in time, the known and the unknown, the unseen, the obvious, all that lived before or is living now in the worlds above and below.” Erdrich prefaces her book with this quote about language as a way to introduce her readers to a problem that she contends with in her writing. Erdrich’s literature challenges her to communicate Ojibwe ontology through the use of the English language. In her books The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse and Love Medicine, Erdrich contends with the English language and its Anglo-American ontologies by writing inanimate objects and natural phenomena as equal in power, autonomy, and spirituality to the novels’ human characters.

    When we say in English ‘my relatives,’ we typically imagine or refer to the dictionary definition of the word. We speak of and consider “a person connected by blood or marriage.” Yet when ‘ninadinamaganidok,’ the Ojibwe translation of ‘my relatives,’ is spoken, there are different connotations invoked. The English language generally attempts to make things objects or objective. The English language is one of capture, its attempts to make the material counterparts of words subject to the speaker or writer. The Ojibwe language, inversely, is a code of action and interaction. Ojibwe ontology is embedded in its language, but it is also this language that is the creator of this ontology in which thingness is spiritual and alive.

    In the first chapter of Love Medicine Erdrich crafts a scene in which Albertine lies in the grass and stares at the stars as she grieves the death of her aunt June. Albertine thinks that “everything seemed to be one piece… As if the sky were a pattern of nerves and our thoughts and memories traveled across it. As if the sky were one gigantic memory” (LM, 37). Erdrich, here, introduces the notion that space has the capacity to possess its own spiritual, emotional, and potentially even embodied memory. Erdrich’s description of the sky as a ‘pattern of nerves’ suggests a sensitivity and responsiveness that the English language regularly reserves for what the language ontologically conceives of as a living being. By likening the sky to a biological structure, Erdrich anthropomorphizes the sky. This literary device is used to shape the English language to align with Ojibwe ontologies, where natural phenomena is perceived as possessive of spirit and consciousness.

    The Collins dictionary defines the English word ‘sky’ as “the space around the earth which you can see when you stand outside and look upward.” This definition points to the English language’s formation of a cultural ontology in which the individual human is centered. This is an ontology where the human body, or, potentially even more so, the human mind, is omnipotent. The English sky’s existence is contingent upon humanity’s epistemological gaze upon it. Erdrich’s definition of the sky as a space in which ‘thoughts and memories traveled,’ a cosmic materiality that is history and memory itself, inverts the notion that the sky is defined by its engagement with humanity. These anthropomorphic descriptions attribute cognitive functions to nature’s fundamental structure. Erdrich’s representation of the sky as a repository of collective memory aligns with Ojibwe ontologies of natural phenomena not as passive objects but active participants in the world.

    Erdrich continues the establishment of Ojibwe ontology with the English language in a chapter of The Last Report titled ‘The Sacrament.’ This chapter finds a hopeless Father Damien/Agnes after concluding an affair with Father Gregory. Damien goes to say goodbye to Nanapush, and intends to commit suicide following this farewell, she instead finds help from Nanapush. Nanapush brings Damien into a sweat lodge; he explains to Damien that “this is our church,” and performs an Ojibwe healing ceremony to ground and bring peace to Damien and himself (TLR, 214). As Nanapush begins to pray, Damien considers that “according to Church doctrine, it was wrong for a priest to undertake God’s worship in so alien a place. Was it more wrong, yet, to feel suddenly at peace? It wasn’t as though she made a choice to do it - Agnes simply found herself comforted… After returning from despair, Father Damien loved not only the people but also the very thingness of the world… Thus was her salvation composed of the very great and very small…The bread of life. The gold orange of washed carrots and the taste of salt.” (TLR, 215-216). Damien/Agnes is transformed not by will or logic, but by the feeling of complete coexistence with her natural-material surroundings. 

    Erdrich’s phrasing of ‘it wasn’t as though she made a choice… [she] simply found herself comforted’ alludes to and represents the expressive and transformative powers of nature. In Love Medicine, we meet Moses Pillager who does not “exist from the inside out but from the outside in” (LM, 83). Later on we encounter Lulu, who “was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms. Sometimes I’d look out on my yard and the green leaves would be glowing. I’d see the oil slick on the wing of a grackle, I’d hear the wind rushing, rolling, like the far-off sound of waterfalls. Then I’d open my mouth wide, my ears wide, my heart, and I’d let everything inside” (LM, 276). Erdrich’s word choices give pieces of the material world autonomy. Materiality has motion with intentionality and it has an impact on humanity. Here, Erdrich’s English words convey the Ojibwe ontological notion of the natural that shapes and makes a decision to enter the human, as well as challenges the anthropocentric ontology of the English language.

    Additionally, in The Last Report’s chapter ‘The Sacrament,’ Erdrich makes an authorial decision to represent the earthly materials that are a means to salvation through a spiritual ontology that differs from the Catholic doctrine that the chapter’s title refers to. Damien/Agnes’s salvation comes from the loving understanding of the ‘thingness’ of bread, salt, and carrots. Ojibwe language and ontology recognizes that materiality is synonymous with spirituality, that thingness is “composed of the very great and very small” (TLR, 215). In the sweat lodge Damien/Agnes submits herself to and allows her identity to become equal with the minutiae of the material world. This particular engagement with her surroundings refreshes her memory; she thinks of a woman who, in Agnes’ childhood, would give Agnes bread and carrots when she was hungry. This act of eating, especially the act of eating bread, nearly resembles the Catholic sacrament of Holy Communion. However, this catholic sacrament understands bread and wine as metaphor for the body and blood of Christ. Agnes/Damien’s sacrament contains no metaphor. Agnes is saved by what the material world has decided to give her. Additionally, Agnes’ sacrament exemplifies the Ojibwe ontological conception of interconnectivity. The bread and carrots’ materiality is still able to bring Agnes salvation despite her experience in the sweat lodge’s different temporal location from that of the food. Erdrich’s use of the English language to describe a materiality that maintains its spiritual functions throughout temporal history illustrates the resilience and adaptability of Ojibwe ontology, spirituality, and life in the face of colonialism.

    Erdrich’s exploration of language and ontology in The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse and Love Medicine illuminates the complexities of cultural identity and resistance. Through her nuanced use of English, Erdrich challenges dominant narratives and affirms the vitality of Indigenous knowledge systems. By depicting the natural world as alive with spirit and significance, she invites readers to reconsider their relationship to the land and its inhabitants. In doing so, Erdrich not only honors Ojibwe traditions but also inspires a deeper appreciation for the interconnectedness of all life forms and the enduring power of storytelling to bridge cultural divides.

 

After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie Short Paper

Wrote this for my Jean Rhys and Virginia Woolf class. Book is lit highly recommend.

Professor Bachner - ENG 311

  Throughout After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie by Jean Rhys, the specificities of the protagonist, Julia, are consistently withheld from the reader. Her background, desires, and physicality, while frequently alluded to, are never explained in full detail. This extreme sense of nonbeing, of paralysis, is emphasized by the varying pronouns used to refer to Julia throughout the first chapter; Rhys alternates between you, her, and Julia to delineate her actions. This jumbling of position emphasizes her perpetual state of nonexistent; specifically the intrusion of the second person almost suggests an implicit first person narration, as if Julia must convince herself of her given thoughts, while simultaneously invoking the reader as the “you”, as if her sense of personhood is so malleable as to even incorporate ourselves. These alternating perspectives are constant throughout Julia’s section of the novel. Subsequently, the narration switches to male characters that encounter Julia, again diminishing her agency as the protagonist. Within this context of non-individuality, the passage in which Julia, from Mr. Horsfield’s perspective, relates her experience of viewing a Modigliani painting is striking; 

“And all the time I talked I was looking at a rum picture she had on the wall - a reproduction of a picture by a man called Modigliani. Have you ever heard of him? This picture is of a woman lying on a couch, a woman with a lovely, lovely body. Oh, utterly lovely. Anyhow, I thought so. A sort of proud body, like an utterly lovely proud animal. And a face like a mask, a long, dark face, and very big eyes. The eyes were blank, like a mask, but when you looked at it a bit it was as if you were looking at a real woman, a live woman. At least, that’s how it was with me. 

Well, at the time I was talking I had the feeling I was explaining things not only to Ruth - that was her name - but I was explaining them to myself too, and to the woman in the picture. It was as if I were before a judge, and I were explaining that everything I had done had always been the only possible thing to do’” (Rhys, 46)

    Julia recalls her experience of modeling for an originally unnamed female painter. She retells this experience to Mr. Horsfield, initiating a long stretch of dialogue that deviates from her expected silence and passiveness. She discusses her viewing of a “reproduction of a picture by a man called Modigliani”. The picture encompasses “a woman lying on a couch, a woman with a lovely, lovely body”; the painting mirroring her experience as a model for a painter herself. The emphasis on the couch specifically draws this parallel, as Julia is frequently described lounging on couches herself. Julia initially describes this model as a “lovely proud animal” with a “face like a mask”, effectively dehumanizing her. However, when she “[looks] at it a bit”, specifically the “very big” “blank” eyes, she encounters a “real woman, a live woman”. The description of the eyes specifically mirror Julia’s own physicality, described earlier in the text; “her eyes, which were beautiful - long and dark, very candid, almost childish in expression. Her eyes gave her away” (8). Both models, Julia and that of Modigliani, have “long” “dark” eyes, which “[give them] away”, or initiate their individuality within their vague personhood. Strikingly, the model of Modigliani is portrayed without eyes, paradoxically diminishing and asserting her selfhood. Oddly, it is only within this lack of portrayal, the void of the eyes, that Julia can encounter her as a “real woman”. This parallel is cemented by her final comment, “At least, that’s how it was with me”, relating not only her interpretation of the art, but implicitly suggesting her replacement of the model, as it “was with me”. 

    Here Rhys sets up parallel and contrasting forms of viewership that emphasize the position of women as paradoxically spectators and subjects themselves. Within this story, Julia observes a reproduction of a Modigliani, while simultaneously suggesting that she also is a reproduction of the art herself, represented through the parallels of the two models. As she relates this story to Mr. Horsfield, another form of viewership is uncovered; Julia retells the story as if attempting to communicate a truth about herself, which entirely evades him. This emphasis on the act of telling is reiterated through the story itself. The painting initiates a desire to explain herself to all that she encounters; “I was explaining things not only to Ruth - that was her name - but I was explaining them to myself too, and to the woman in the picture. It was as if I were before a judge, and I were explaining that everything I had done had always been the only possible thing to do”. Julia reveals the name of the painter, Ruth, which was initially unknown to the reader. This intrusion of specificity subverts the vagueness that usually accompanies all of Julia’s stories, as if she was attempting to claim some sense of personhood. However, within this telling, Ruth, Julia, and the woman in the picture are all flattened into one, both the recipients of Julia’s story and the subjects of observation themselves. Subsequently, Julia feels as if she “were before a judge” “explaining that everything [she] had done had always been the only possible thing to do”, asserting her total lack of freewill and agency. This nonbeing is subverted by the function of her dialogue, however, as she aims to communicate a fundamental truth about herself to Mr. Horsfield, Ruth, herself, the woman in the painting, and the wider world. 

    Rhys outlines a protagonist that mirrors the model of Modigliani. Both are vague, obscured female figures without defining traits or agency. Their apparent sexuality remains their only ascertainable quality. This objectification is explicitly related to an inherent depersonalization of women by the male gaze - apparent in the collapse of Ruth, Julia, and the woman in the painting into one. However, Julia asserts her individuality within this void of nonexistent; as she retells her own vision of the Modigliani in an effort to relate a personal truth to the reader and Mr. Horsfield. Strikingly, she can only discover this personhood within the blanks of the model’s eyes, or through the status of nonbeing. 

The Zine!!!

 https://thisisnotaprotest.weebly.com/

The Song For Rain (Alternate Score)

 

3.1 Ep

Listen to 3.1 

Ben & Oscar

 

Self Portrait for CINE236