Lauren (Caily) Wilbanks- Mythologies
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
The Last Post
I think the only thing I really have left to say is Thank you to Professor Sexon. This class is exactly what I think education should be and it because of you. I echo many of classmates when I say you are an inspiration. I am very glad I happened to have taken this class and it will change the way I see and interpret the world around me.
Monday, April 22, 2013
My Life as a Mythic Detective
From the very beginning of this
class things have fit together, connected to one another by such beautiful
synchronicity I doubt I will ever be the same. One of the first things we
discussed, in quite depth, was trees. Specifically the Laurel tree. My given first name is Lauren, which means
from the place of the laurel trees. I’ve never gone by Lauren; I’ve always gone
by my middle name. I’ve often wondered why my parents would name me something
they never actually intended to call me. But having learned the significance of
Laurel trees I thought, maybe that’s why, maybe it’s mythological. And so I began realizing how important it was
that I was taking this class, at this specific point in time. I began to
appreciate the brilliantly ordinary happenstance that landed me here at the
exact time I was meant to be. A few big things further reinforced that notion
over the course of the semester.
One of the
first things I blogged about was a song by Blind Willie Johnson called Dark Was the Night. I talked about this
song in my post about the theme of loneliness in creation myths. This song was
put on something called the Voyager Golden Record, a phonograph, sent up by
NASA on the Voyager spacecraft. The record includes sounds and songs of Earth in
the case that it was found by intelligent extraterrestrial life. Blind Willie
Johnson’s song was put on to describe the human emotion of loneliness. So when
we came to the end of the class, which is really just the beginning, it was
kismet that Dr. Sexon decided to share a song by none other than Blind Willie
Johnson. As we listened to John the
Revelator I wondered if Blind Willie could ever have known as he sung those
songs that they would be launched up into space for aliens to hear or listened
to by a group of college students. Then I realized how profoundly mythological
it was that he was Blind Willie
Johnson. He was blinded as a child when his mother threw lye in his face.
Maybe, like Tiresias he saw something he ought not have or gave an answer he
never should have. So it makes
beautiful, perfect sense that Blind Willie Johnson would have this power of
music, a sort of foresight that has reached through all these years, into outer
space. It makes me wonder if he didn’t know all along.
All
semester I have happened to read a bunch of things out of class that have
consistently and perfectly echoed what we discuss in class. From the poet
Rainer Maria Rilke to Roald Dahl to Kurt Vonnegut, I have read certain things
with impeccable timing. One of the most profound synchronicities was my reading
of Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. Incidentally, I have been trying to read this
book for over a year now but couldn’t because it was constantly checked out
from the library. I now realize there is no other time I could have read it
than the exact time I did. The book is
about a made up religion and the end of the world. I shared this quote in my blog:
“No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but
a bunch of X's between somebodies hands, and little kids look and look and
look at all those X's . . ."
"And?"
"No damn cat, and no damn cradle.”
Which as I shared in my before,
just fits so appropriately to Nabokov’s short story and “referential mania”. Maybe we are all looking for something that
isn’t there, whether is be in cat’s cradles, jars of jellies, or old blues
songs. Which momentarily but the brakes on my intellectual excitement about
everything connecting. “Wait” I thought,
I’m finding all this meaning in things that say there is no meaning…what does
that mean? But then I realized I was missing the point, of course things are
only meaningful because we make them so, but that’s irrelevant we ourselves are meaningful. Therefore the meaning we
prescribe to things is equally so. The connections are equally valuable. To
quote, if I may, Albus Dumbledore; “of course it’s all been happening in your
head but why on earth should that mean it isn’t real”.
So, through the course of those
events, the class discussions, and the recent presentations have been
immeasurably valuable to me. It has affirmed me in my desire to study and make
films. Stories are perhaps the most valuable thing in human possession, and I
do believe its something we each posses. We are all proceeded by it, and so we
all have a share in it. Ovid knew that, he knew how important art, and
literature, and stories were. They serve as an infinite power that exceeds time
and space to assure us that others have gone before.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
End Times--"No Cat, No Cradle"
A few days before we started discussing the end times I
finished reading the book Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, which
is a profoundly mythological work that centers around the story of the end of
the world as we know it. It involves a made up religion called Bokonism that
professes it self as lies all fabricated to comfort humans in the face of meaningless.
Bokonism even includes its own mythological creation story.
The novel focuses on the creator of the atomic bomb, which
is alluded to as the end of the world due to our own knowledge. Which
is extremely biblical and mythological, the idea that we know what we
shouldn't, that we've seen what we ought not have. The
end civilization in Cat's Cradle comes at the hands
of an invention that essentially turns the whole world to ice. End times
are ushered in at the hands of our own knowledge. The whole novel is
a great allegory of the human quest for meaning, a quest that is perhaps is
fruitless. As suggested in tis quote:
“No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but
a bunch of X's between somebodies hands, and little kids look and look and
look at all those X's . . ."
"And?"
"No damn cat, and no damn cradle.”
When I read that of course immediately thought of the
"referential mania" in Nabokov’s short story. And then I reread
that verse in Ecclesiastes that says:
"Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity."
And then I thought of how "Vanity" refers to the
Hebrew term hebel meaning "mere breath", and in the
NIV version it actually uses the word "meaningless" instead of
vanity.
I was slightly intellectually overwhelmed at how
everything started connecting to everything else, and even more so by the
thought that I was finding so much meaning in all these things saying there is
no meaning. There were so many connections that I found it really hard to
mentally organize them enough for this post, which is why I'm sure it seems
rambling. I'm also sure there are a ton more mythological references and
connections in Cat's Cradle but I'll leave those for my final
paper.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
No Ordinary Day
Our discussion of ordinary days reminded me of this particularly poignant quote:
"If your everyday life seems poor to you, do not accuse it: accuse yourself, tell yourself you are not poet enough to summon up its riches; since for the creator there is no poverty and no poor or unimportant place. And even if you were in a prison whose walls allowed none of the sounds of the world to reach your senses, would you not still always have your childhood, that precious royal richness, that treasure house of memories?"
That is a quote by the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke from his book Letters To A Young Poet. It's a compilation of ten letters he sent to a 19 year old poet. I'm no poet, but I am 19, so I've found the book particularly apropos to my life and Ovid's Metamorphoses. Myth, as the precedent to all action, serves as a kind of collective memory in which we all share. A recollection we all posses and can call upon to bring beauty and significance to even the most mundane of circumstances. At the risk of sounding repetitive I echo what I have said in my previous posts; we are irrevocably connected by myth and literature. It is a wonderful thing to be so moved by something written over 100 years ago to a different 19 year old, and then to realize its real significance lies in stories much older.
"If your everyday life seems poor to you, do not accuse it: accuse yourself, tell yourself you are not poet enough to summon up its riches; since for the creator there is no poverty and no poor or unimportant place. And even if you were in a prison whose walls allowed none of the sounds of the world to reach your senses, would you not still always have your childhood, that precious royal richness, that treasure house of memories?"
That is a quote by the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke from his book Letters To A Young Poet. It's a compilation of ten letters he sent to a 19 year old poet. I'm no poet, but I am 19, so I've found the book particularly apropos to my life and Ovid's Metamorphoses. Myth, as the precedent to all action, serves as a kind of collective memory in which we all share. A recollection we all posses and can call upon to bring beauty and significance to even the most mundane of circumstances. At the risk of sounding repetitive I echo what I have said in my previous posts; we are irrevocably connected by myth and literature. It is a wonderful thing to be so moved by something written over 100 years ago to a different 19 year old, and then to realize its real significance lies in stories much older.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Myth Displacement
In every American suburbia community there are leaders, members of the community that hold an unmistakable power over their fellow neighbors and community members. Mr. Smith held that power in his own suburban community. He was highly regarded, head of the home owners association, president of the PTO, the whole nine yards. He held the power of a suburbia, mini van, white picket fence god. A king among the average citizens who regarded him as a leader. The thing was, he was a total slime ball. Just a terrible human being. And I mean creepy lady killer, pedophile,Boo Radley, Buffalo Bill type. On the inside at least.
He would hang around around the schools luring young beautiful women into his clutches. He would ride around in a white windowless van handing out candy and puppies. Which should have been a red flag, but he was a suburban god so he got away with it. Driving around in his white van he captured and took advantage of many young women. I don't mean to say that so casually but its the truth and will probably just end up as some account that students casually read in their classes years from now. One young girl in particular he coerced into the cover of his creepy white van by traveling around with a heard of adorable puppies. Under the cover of puppies he drove that poor unsuspecting girl away into the sea of housing complexes and strip malls, his power unchecked even though he was a creepy, creepy man.
He would hang around around the schools luring young beautiful women into his clutches. He would ride around in a white windowless van handing out candy and puppies. Which should have been a red flag, but he was a suburban god so he got away with it. Driving around in his white van he captured and took advantage of many young women. I don't mean to say that so casually but its the truth and will probably just end up as some account that students casually read in their classes years from now. One young girl in particular he coerced into the cover of his creepy white van by traveling around with a heard of adorable puppies. Under the cover of puppies he drove that poor unsuspecting girl away into the sea of housing complexes and strip malls, his power unchecked even though he was a creepy, creepy man.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
"The Spinners" Interpretation
I Think one of the most interesting things about this photo is that it is art that is about art, a story about a story, which is exactly what Metamorphoses is. I think the tapestry in the back is probably the tapestry Athena wove, and by virtue of lighting your eye is drawn to much more than the foreground. This is probably to highlight that the story of Athena and Arachne as the precedent to the weaving that is happening in the foreground. The tapestry is framed within the frame, a story within a story. I think maybe Valazques is showing how much credence Ovid places on art, a battle of weaving is told with as much importance as a battle of swords. The woman in the foreground holding back the red curtain as if they are on a stage, also seems to convey this theme of art within art. That seems to be the main point and parallels to Ovid that I can deduce. I honestly couldn't identify any references to spiders, but there are probably a lot of references I'm not picking up on.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Originality and Art
I thought I would talk about a few subjects that over the last few weeks of class we have discussed and I've realized are very closely related. I've recently started to see just how many aspects of the class are so intertwined with each other as well as my own life. Namely, the subjects of art and originality. Many students have already talked about how nothing is original and everything we are and everything we do is just a repetition, perpetuating what has already been done. As a film major this is something that I've had to come to terms with recently. Anybody who endeavors to do anything creative has to face the reality that in some form its been done before. How can I create, say, think, do, anything new? That is a heavy thought that can be kind of demoralizing. But actually It's kind of encouraging. It is most important to make something, truthful, and beautiful. Less imperative is originality. While reading Metamorphoses I began thinking about originality in the realm of art and literature. In a sense, unoriginality is what makes art and literature so valuable. It reaches through time and space and says "hey you are not alone",these challenges have been faced before, people have felt what you are feeling. There is something really beautiful about that. Being original means you are alone, and as i said in my last post, that is not something humans are meant to be.
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